word in the conversation with Kenzie by sending a text, but then think better of it, shoving the phone into my pocket.
H ONEY. I ’VE PASSED THE RESTAURANT a couple dozen times but have never been inside. While it is a casual place, it also isn’t a restaurant in mine or Ben’s budget. When Aiden texted me the location, I considered asking that we go somewhere else. Then curiosity got the better of me. After all, when else will I have the chance to eat at the chic farm-to-table eatery?
Stepping inside, I see the hostess speaking to a young couple in front of me. My eyes dart around the open floor plan, an exposed brick wall, bare industrial ceilings, and reclaimed wood from floor to ceiling. I snicker to myself as I notice there’s no shortage of hipster diners. Ben would hate this place.
My phone buzzes and I retrieve it from my small black handbag. My chest tightens. Speak of the devil. He just won’t let this drop, no matter how many times I tell him we’re not getting back together.
Ben: Where are you?
Me: It doesn’t matter.
Ben: It Matters to Me.
My eyes involuntarily roll. I’m sure very little matters to Ben, other than Ben.
Me: Well it shouldn’t.
Ben: What is that supposed to mean?
Me: It means it’s not your concern anymore.
Ben: Seriously Kenz, where in the hell are you?
Me: We’re done Ben.
Ben: Fine, whatever.
His final text stabs through my heart like a hot poker of truth. I want him to leave me alone—why does it hurt so badly every time we interact? I want to tell him I’ll always love him. I want to tell him that this has nothing to do with who he is, but everything to do with who we are together—but how can I? He’ll never understand because he thinks when we’re together we’re perfect. He can’t stop long enough to look at us and see that together we’re all wrong. We hardly interact with one another when we’re in the same room. I can be sitting right next to him and yet I’m further from him than I’ve ever been.
I look down at my screen, and see the dots indicating Ben is unleashing the mother of all text messages to me. I moan in frustration, unsure why I ever thought a break up with him would be easy.
“There she is,” I hear, followed by a pause. I look up to Aiden’s smile, as he’s standing behind the hostess. He’s dressed in a pair of jeans that hug his hips and bottom in a way that my eyes can’t stop themselves from lingering. A blue sweater is pulled over a button up plaid shirt, the tails of which peek out from the bottom of the wool top layer. He’s hot, but in a way that looks like he doesn’t even try. I, on the other hand, spent most of the evening trying on everything in my closet. And ended up deciding on one of Ben’s favorite outfits.
Quickly I shove my phone into my handbag and force a smile.
“Right this way,” the hostess offers with a wave of her well-manicured hand. I envy her ability to enjoy her job. I smile and walk next to Aiden as we follow the petite and cheery brunette.
“Everything okay?” Aiden whispers. My back stiffens as I feel his warm breath on my neck, just below my ear.
I smile through my lie. “Fine.”
We sit. I glance at the single page menu, trying not to think about the multiple vibrations in my purse, indicating additional messages from Ben.
My mouth begins to water as I read the description of the roasted half chicken on top of mashed butternut squash and potatoes. I look up at Aiden. He runs his fingers through his hair, his eyes intensely narrowed at the page of delectable yumminess in front of him.
I bite my lip, apprehensively pulling my phone out into my lap, even though I know I shouldn’t. It doesn’t matter how many times I tell myself not to look at that damn screen. I can’t help it, I have to look.
Ben: I guess I’ll just start telling myself I’m over you and the way you look in that little black dress.
Damn him and damn
H ONEY. I ’VE PASSED THE RESTAURANT a couple dozen times but have never been inside. While it is a casual place, it also isn’t a restaurant in mine or Ben’s budget. When Aiden texted me the location, I considered asking that we go somewhere else. Then curiosity got the better of me. After all, when else will I have the chance to eat at the chic farm-to-table eatery?
Stepping inside, I see the hostess speaking to a young couple in front of me. My eyes dart around the open floor plan, an exposed brick wall, bare industrial ceilings, and reclaimed wood from floor to ceiling. I snicker to myself as I notice there’s no shortage of hipster diners. Ben would hate this place.
My phone buzzes and I retrieve it from my small black handbag. My chest tightens. Speak of the devil. He just won’t let this drop, no matter how many times I tell him we’re not getting back together.
Ben: Where are you?
Me: It doesn’t matter.
Ben: It Matters to Me.
My eyes involuntarily roll. I’m sure very little matters to Ben, other than Ben.
Me: Well it shouldn’t.
Ben: What is that supposed to mean?
Me: It means it’s not your concern anymore.
Ben: Seriously Kenz, where in the hell are you?
Me: We’re done Ben.
Ben: Fine, whatever.
His final text stabs through my heart like a hot poker of truth. I want him to leave me alone—why does it hurt so badly every time we interact? I want to tell him I’ll always love him. I want to tell him that this has nothing to do with who he is, but everything to do with who we are together—but how can I? He’ll never understand because he thinks when we’re together we’re perfect. He can’t stop long enough to look at us and see that together we’re all wrong. We hardly interact with one another when we’re in the same room. I can be sitting right next to him and yet I’m further from him than I’ve ever been.
I look down at my screen, and see the dots indicating Ben is unleashing the mother of all text messages to me. I moan in frustration, unsure why I ever thought a break up with him would be easy.
“There she is,” I hear, followed by a pause. I look up to Aiden’s smile, as he’s standing behind the hostess. He’s dressed in a pair of jeans that hug his hips and bottom in a way that my eyes can’t stop themselves from lingering. A blue sweater is pulled over a button up plaid shirt, the tails of which peek out from the bottom of the wool top layer. He’s hot, but in a way that looks like he doesn’t even try. I, on the other hand, spent most of the evening trying on everything in my closet. And ended up deciding on one of Ben’s favorite outfits.
Quickly I shove my phone into my handbag and force a smile.
“Right this way,” the hostess offers with a wave of her well-manicured hand. I envy her ability to enjoy her job. I smile and walk next to Aiden as we follow the petite and cheery brunette.
“Everything okay?” Aiden whispers. My back stiffens as I feel his warm breath on my neck, just below my ear.
I smile through my lie. “Fine.”
We sit. I glance at the single page menu, trying not to think about the multiple vibrations in my purse, indicating additional messages from Ben.
My mouth begins to water as I read the description of the roasted half chicken on top of mashed butternut squash and potatoes. I look up at Aiden. He runs his fingers through his hair, his eyes intensely narrowed at the page of delectable yumminess in front of him.
I bite my lip, apprehensively pulling my phone out into my lap, even though I know I shouldn’t. It doesn’t matter how many times I tell myself not to look at that damn screen. I can’t help it, I have to look.
Ben: I guess I’ll just start telling myself I’m over you and the way you look in that little black dress.
Damn him and damn
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