I still register its weight, its outline against the table, the way I’ve started noticing it even when it’s quiet.
“They don’t disappear,” Nancy says. “That’s the worst part. They just… pull back.”
Paige gestures with her fork. “And when that happens, it’s because they’ve already decided something. They just don’t want to say it out loud yet.”
My fork pauses midair.
Nancy shrugs. “Or he’s tired. Or busy. Or emotionally constipated. Men contain multitudes.”
Paige laughs. “True. But you can usuallyfeelit when something shifts. Like when the vibe changes and nobody sends a calendar invite.”
I laugh when they do, a second too late, like I’m chasing the moment instead of in it.
I force a smile and take a bite I can’t taste.
I tell myself it’s fine. That I’m here. That I’m present.
My attention keeps drifting anyway.
They aren’t talking about Colby.
Not really.
They’re talking about Marissa. About her almost-boyfriend. About dating in general. About situationships that stretch too thin before snapping.
Still, the words scrape the inside of me.
“You okay?” Nancy asks.
“Yeah,” I say quickly. “Just distracted.”
Paige tips her head. “Work stuff?”
“Always.”
That part isn’t even a lie.
A moment later, Paige adds casually, “You seeing hockey guy tonight?”
There it is.
The question slips in like an afterthought, barely meant to mean anything.
I hesitate anyway.
It’s a split second, but I feel it.
The pause.
“I don’t know,” I say. “He’s got a lot going on this week.”
Paige hums. “Makes sense.”
Nancy just says, “Huh.”
Not suspicious.
Not pointed.
