His eyes flick up to the bus stop sign. “Catching the bus?”
“Right.” I nod slowly, processing this. “You live around here?” I ask, fearing the answer.
“I live above that grocer.” He points to the old-school grocery store that still hand paints their window signs and is the cheapest place in a five block radius to get my treat day Froot Loops.
“Oh, that’s…” Concerning? “Good to know.” I realize he’s alone. “Your girlfriend arriving separately?”
He raises an eyebrow. “Girlfriend?”
“The girl you were with in the, uh, bathroom?”
“Oh, yeah. Girlspacefriend. I’m not in a relationship.”
I roll my eyes. Friends don’t sneak into bathrooms together. “Let me guess, you have alotof girlspacefriends.”
He shrugs. “I guess? I’m not really a relationship guy.”
My lips twitch. What a luxury to be ‘not a relationship guy.’ To be so flush with options that you can actively choose to keep things casual. To skim the surface of a relationship, getting what you want—attention, sex, maybe even a fleeting dose of love—and being able to walk away the second things get real.
He and Grant should exchange notes.
“Did I lose you?” Eitan asks.
I push my hair away from my face, and with it, any lingering thoughts of Grant. “What?”
“I said you make a pretty good Rachel.” He rests his hands on his belt, right above his stupid walkman.
“Are you” —I give his outfit another onceover, ignoring the Pavlovian ping of attraction at his loafers— “Chandler?”
“I’m Ross,” he says, soft and low. “Obviously. I’d think Rachel would have no trouble recognizing me.” My cheeks heat. “WE WERE ON A BREAK!” Eitan shouts theatrically, so loud that everyone on the sidewalk gives us side eye.
“Shh!” My hand automatically shoots out to his chest, then to my forehead to cool it down. “You’re one of those people who likes to make scenes,” I tell him, groaning.
“I’m only doing what our Supreme Leader asked of us,” he says, his tone shifting distinctly toward distaste. Perhaps even contempt, if I listen closely.
My forehead wrinkles. “What happened to the perfect best man who stopped on the way to grab Aunt Lou’s favorite flowers?”
“That was for Josh, not Penelope.”
“What’s your problem with Penelope?”
He shifts on his feet. “How long do you have?”
I shake my head. “You must not know her very well. Her persona on social media is really different from who she is as a person.”
Eitan snorts.
I fiddle with my hair, pushing it behind my ears before remembering it makes me look like a rennaissance lad. “I’ve known her for seven years now. She’s one of my best friends.”
“Really.”
“Yes,” I say, with a sharp edge. Who is this guy? “I knew Penbeforeshe published her book. We actually met in a writing group, our first year out of college.”
“Funny, I’ve never seen you before Tim’s wedding.”
“Well, maybe you have and you just don’t remember. I used to go out a lot.” I kick myself. Igoout a lot.Present tense.
He appraises me. “I would have remembered meeting you.”
