I stand, confused. "Why is he here?"
"Probably wondering if I told you, and if I did, to do damage control." Selena rises too, blocking my path. "Em, please, just don't?—"
Before I can decide, the door opens. Alex walks in—I gave him my spare key this morning when we came back from our run, saying it was easier than him knocking when I'm in the shower.
Now, I regret it.
He stops when he sees us both, his eyes immediately going to my tear-stained face. His expression darkens. "What happened, Em?"
Selena positions herself between us. "We were just talking. Girl stuff. You should go."
Alex ignores her completely, his eyes fixed on me. "Why are you crying? Who hurt you?"
I can't meet his gaze. "You should have just told me yourself instead of telling Selena."
His brow furrows. "Told you what?"
"Alex, come on," Selena says quickly. "Don't make this harder than it needs to be. I already told her what you said. You can stop pretending now."
Alex's jaw tightens, but his eyes never leave mine. "What did she tell you I said?"
My voice comes out shaky. "That it was fun but you're not looking for anything serious. That the card made it clear this was just ...physical.” The word comes out as a breathy, deflated whisper.
Something shifts in Alex's expression—a cold fury that makes me take a step back, though I can tell it's not directed at me.
He looks at Selena. "I never said that."
"Alex, don't?—"
"I never said that because I haven't talked to you. Not today. Not yesterday. Not ever beyond basic politeness."
Selena's face flushes deep red. "That's not—you bastard, you’re lying to save face?—"
"You've been trying to get my attention for months," Alex continues. "Showing up where I am. Inviting me to your apartment every week. I've turned you down every single time."
Wait, what? I flick my gaze between them, suddenly feeling very confused and disoriented, like I'm watching a movie in a different language.
Selena shakes her head. "That's not true. Emily, he's lying. He's just trying to?—"
"Every Tuesday evening, you knock on my door with some excuse," Alex says. "You're out of sugar. Your sink is leaking. Youneed help moving furniture. I always say no. I find excuses to avoid you"
"That's not—those were legitimate?—"
"Last Tuesday, you invited me to 'just have a drink, as neighbors.' I said no. The Tuesday before that, you needed help 'fixing your TV.' I said no." Alex's eyes are cold. "Should I keep going?"
I stare at Selena as pieces click into place.
All those times she casually mentioned Alex.
How she always seemed to know what he did, where he was.
How she "happened" to always bump into him at the lobby.
How she encouraged me to write the card.
What if it wasn't about helping me at all?
"You wanted him to reject me," I say, the realization washing over me like ice water.
