Because those two? They’re the reason single people hate relationships. They make it so glaringly obvious that romance is easy. Or, at the very least, worth it.
I mean, what’s the point of a relationship if it doesn’t heal you or make you a better person? Why do people who hate each other stay together?
Why did my parents?
Is it easier to stay in something that makes you bitter than it is to search for something that might make you better?
And if you find it, how do you not take it for granted?
I just want Ingrid to be happy.
But I want it to be me who makes her happy.
The thought hits my chest like a boulder just as the front door creaks open.
I swallow hard as a brown-haired girl steps out.
She looks nothing like Ingrid and it hits me all at once.
I don’t want a new relationship.
I want closure from my old one.
“Hi,” Britta says as she smiles.
“Hey,” I return, my stomach aching.
It’s awkward. Tense.
But Britta cuts through it with a laugh.
“This is weird, right?”
I nod in agreement. “Super weird.”
Which makes me think about the first time I met Ingrid. It was freshman year and she was perfect. The way she laughed was perfect. The cowlick that always messes up the back of her hair is perfect. The way she cries at movies that are happy is perfect.
Am I ever going to feel that way for someone again?
“Do you want to come in?” Britta asks.
I clear my throat. “How do you feel about a walk?” I suggest. I’m not ready to meet her mom—her dad’s in jail. Or her siblings. Or get too comfortable here.
I wouldn’t call showing up a mistake. But it’s clear this isn’t what I want.
Britta closes the door behind her. “Yeah. There’s a cute little coffee shop a block away if you want to grab a drink.”
“Sounds good.”
We walk, and she makes small talk beneath the shady trees.
The path is concrete, the sole of my shoe scuffing it every few steps.
I don’t realize I’m wandering aimlessly until Britta calls out my name.
“Um… Cash?”
My body jerks as I stop and twist to face her.
