Peter.
The boy I used to fantasize would look at me.
The boy I once thought I loved.
Quietly. Invisibly. Painfully.
There’s a woman on his arm. Not the sweet ex he used to bring around.
This one’s stiff, academic. The librarian, I think. She gives me a glare that says lower your voice, trash, like it’s a habit.
Noah shifts beside me.
Peter’s gaze flicks over the room. Lingers a beat too long on Reid.
“Officer Calloway,” he says.
Reid nods, polite but unreadable.
Then Peter glances at the specials board.
His eyes hit mine.
And slide right off.
Nothing.
No flicker of recognition.
No oh, you’re that girl.
Not even a weren’t you…?
Just blank.
Like I’m a stranger.
Like I was never the girl who changed herself for a boy who never looked back.
“Two vatrushka. No raisins. And a sourdough spelt baton,” he says.
He touches the woman’s waist like that’s the whole conversation.
She has no voice.
“To go?” I ask.
My voice isn’t small.
I don’t do small anymore.
“Yes.”
Noah bags it in silence.
When the bell rings again and they’re gone, I’m already bracing for it.
And still, I’m not ready for the way they close in.
