After my last relationship flatlined, I reached into my emotional junk drawer and pulled out a name I hadn’t deleted. A placeholder. A “just in case.”
We’d hooked up once, years ago, while I was dating his friend. We never talked about it, but we stayed in touch the way people do when they’re too curious to let go but too cautious to move forward. There would be birthday texts. A heart on an Instagram Story. The occasional rogue emoji. We ran into each other sometimes, always by accident, though increasingly it felt like fate. The tension between us hummed just below the threshold of language. It was a low-stakes danger, like driving with one headlight out.
He was always in a relationship, or I was. Still, I liked to believe I lingered in the back of his mind. I know he lingered in mine.
So when my relationship ended—quietly, abruptly, like unplugging a tired old appliance—and I was back in my room, blasting Lana, eating ice cream straight from the tub, trying to distract myself from the imminent pain of heartbreak, I texted him.
Drink?
Sure. Want to come to mine?
He told me he was “seeing someone.” Not officially dating, but it was probably heading that way. In boy-speak, that usually means they’re exclusive. Or close enough. I nodded like I cared.
The chemistry was, for lack of a better word, insane. He touched my wrist and my entire body lit up. He said things he probably shouldn’t have; the kind of things that sound hot in the moment and slightly tragic in the morning.
It was supposed to be a fling. A sexy distraction to keep me from obsessing over my ex. And it worked, at first. But then my brain did that thing it does, and rerouted the obsession—from my ex to him. I found myself spiraling. Wondering if he liked me. If the girl he was seeing knew about me. If he remembered the things I said in passing, hoping they’d land. I caught myself googling things like, “signs he’s into you but scared” and “how to tell if he’ll leave her for you”—searches no one makes when they’re fine.
But I didn’t want him, not really. I just wanted to be chosen. I wanted the redemption arc. I wanted the version where he reached for me with certainty, like he knew something I didn’t. The more he ignored me, the more I wanted him.
