A large group walks in then, more guys than girls, and I secretly hope they don’t sit next to us. They’re in good spirits but seem a little rowdy. Thankfully, they grab Operation and Trivial Pursuit and push a bunch of tables together in the corner, near one of the TVs. They end up making good background noise as I look back at Ryan.
“Mark and I went out for three years.”
“Must have been serious,” he says. “Why did you guys break up?”
“In the end, I think we both wanted more, but we were having problems for a long time before that. I felt like he was cold at times and he thought I had trust issues.”
“Why would he think that?”
“Why do you think?” I ask poignantly.
A silence spreads between us, hidden and sticky, like one of those mousetraps you slide behind the fridge. Neither of us moves for fear of getting caught.
Ryan takes another swig of his drink. “Do you wish you guys could have made it work?” he asks a few seconds later.
“Sometimes. If I’m having a bad day, then I think, yeah, maybe I should have tried harder. Mark was nice and we could have had a happy life.”
“And if you’re having a good day?”
“On good days, I remind myself that there were major reasons why we were both willing to walk away.”
Ryan nods and takes a slow sip of his beer.
“It’s all right, though. What I learned from Mark is that when it comes to forever, you should end up with someone you’re psyched to be with.”
“Because if you’re not psyched, then what are you?”
“Heading for breakup city, apparently.”
Ryan smiles and it warms me up from head to toe. I wish it didn’t.
“I don’t know,” he says. “I think there’s something to be said for ending up with someone you’re content with instead of someone you’re obsessed with.” His tone is friendly and easy, juxtaposing the weight of his words.
“But you can be in love with someone and not be obsessed with them,” I counter.
“You think so?”
His gaze dares me to tell him he’s wrong. I know he’s thinking about us. How we were too consumed for our own good. How we turned everything up to a boil when we should have let it simmer.
“What about you?” I quickly ask. “Did you ever get close to settling down?”
Ryan watches me for a couple of seconds and is about to answer when my eyes are drawn to the patio doorway.
“Oh, my God,” I whisper, sucking in a violent breath.
My gut feels like it’s nose-diving into the floor. I drop my torso down and scrunch over the table, trying my best to hide behind our Jenga wall and the frame of Ryan’s shoulders.
Mark is standing in the entrance of the patio. Mark, as in not-psyched-to-be-with-me, we-broke-up-three-months-ago Mark.
“What are you doing?” Ryan sounds confused and slightly concerned as he gazes down at me, unaware that he is now my human shield.
“My ex is here.”
“The one you just broke up with? Where?” He cranes his neck to search the room.
“Stop! Don’t look,” I seethe, digging my fingers into his knee under the table.
“Ouch! You don’t have to stab me over it.” He pivots a bit, pulling his leg free from my death claw. “What are you scared of? It didn’t sound like you two ended on horrible terms.”
