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they called off the wedding

I picked up my phone and stared down at the screen, not immediately understanding. “Who?” I typed, my hands shaking.

Mikey

the couple from the show we were watching earlier???

I slid down to the floor and sat with my back against the bed, cradling my phone.

Me

Oh, right.

Mikey

there’s 1 more episode if you want to come back and finish watching.

I stared at the message until my vision blurred, then read it again. The smart move was to say no. Mikey wouldn’t push. It was late, and we had practice early tomorrow. Early enough, in fact, that he should be trying to go to sleep, too.

The problem was, I wanted to go. Even knowing it was bad for me, I wanted to be in his space. Wanted to hear his voice. Just … be near him.

I was so fucking screwed.

Me

No. That’s okay. You go ahead.

Mikey

I put my phone back on the nightstand, rolled onto my back, and did fifty sit-ups. Then fifty more.

The next day, Mikey pulled up alongside me, his helmet shoved up to expose sweat-dark curls at his temples. He grinned at me like everything was normal. Because, for him, it was.

“Hey, so. Dinner again?”

Say no.

I’d promised myself just this morning that I was going to pull back, create some space between us. Let this … thing I felt for him die out.

“Sure,” I said.

He knocked his shoulder against mine and skated toward the bench, calling something out over his shoulder that I didn’t catch because I was too busy hating myself.

In the locker room, I showered quickly and got dressed, all the while telling myself I could do this. I could be Mikey’s friend. I could act normal. What I couldn’t do, under any fucking circumstance, was ever touch him again.

Simple, right?

Twenty minutes later, we stepped out onto the sidewalk, the uncharacteristically bright sky making me squint. I fished my sunglasses out of my hoodie pocket and put them on.

“Fancy.” Mikey slid on a pair of bright yellow plastic ones that looked like something you’d find at a gas station somewhere in the middle of nowhere.

“Christmas gift from my mom,” I said, belatedly remembering our conversation about his post-holiday hand-me-downs.

“Of course they were.” He chuckled and bumped his arm against mine like he’d done earlier. “Hey. So what do you think about Thai tonight?”

I thought it had too much sugar and would make me feel bloated later, but since I was already breaking my rule about limiting my one-on-one time with him, I figured breaking another rule wouldn’t matter much. I had a suspiciously strong desire to eat my feelings.

“Yeah, that sounds good.”