I stare at the photo.
I close Instagram and never go to study group again.
Said girlfriend,Harper, is currently on his arm—retro sundress, beachy waves. She’s gorgeous. I drop my gaze to the menu, studying the miso soup description like it holds the secrets of the universe.
Please don’t see me. Please don’t see me. Please don’t?—
“Pipes?” Miles's voice cuts through the jazz, too close, too familiar, too everything.
I look up. He's already halfway to mytable, Harper two steps behind, her hand on his elbow like she's trying to redirect him.
“Miles, our table's ready—” she says, but he's not listening.
“Just a second, babe. Look who's here!”
Harper's expression shifts minutely—a tightening around her eyes that suggests this isn't the first time he's ignored her attempts to steer him away from something. She follows him to my table.
“Hey!” My voice comes out an octave too high. The neon sign above us definitely isn’t hiding the flush racing up my neck.
“Long time.” He slides into the seat across from me before I can form any words. Harper follows, all graceful limbs and sympathetic smile. “Jack said you’re working on a new app? Without your trusty debugging partner?”
Harper laughs like this is charming, instead of a knife to the ribs.
I briefly consider drowning myself in my miso soup. The bowl’s too small. Story of my life.
“Beta’s great,” I lie through my teeth. “Just polishing the UX. Making it more... user-friendly.”
“User-friendly?” Miles’s eyebrows climb. “You? The girl who once made an app interface so complicated even the CS professors couldn’t navigate it?”
“People change.”
“Do they, though?” He’s grinning now, that familiar teasing that used to make me melt. Now it just makes me want to throw soy sauce at his face.
Harper tilts her head, probably practiced in a mirror. “Maybe you could demo it for us sometime? I’m always beta testing Miles’s projects, aren’t I, babe? He says I give great feedback.”
I used to give great feedback. I used to rebuild your entire codebase while you played video games. I used to?—
“Yeah, maybe.” The words taste like battery acid.
“We miss you at study group, Pipes.” Miles leans forward, all earnest concern. “Come back? We’re hosting a little party thing at our place this weekend.”
Our place.
The words land like a gut punch.
They moved in together?
I can’t think about Harper in his apartment. In the space where I helped him build that Swedish nightmare of a desk, where we ate Chinese food on the floor because he didn’t own chairs yet.
Where I stupidly thought?—
“Can’t.” I grab for my go-to excuse. “Extra shifts at Dora’s. Saturday brunch is basically the Hunger Games with pancakes.”
Miles winces. “That sucks.”
“Devastating,” I agree, mentally adding: So devastating I'd beg Marco for every single Saturday shift rather than watch you two share inside jokes in front of people who used to bet on when we’d get together.
Harper’s face crumples into a pout that probably works on puppies and Miles. “Oh no! Right when I finally get to meet the famous Piper! Miles talks about you all the time.”
