We still talked all the time, and Ben was always saying he missed me. Or I’d wake up to rambling remember when texts. But when I mentioned train schedules, he’d change the subject so fast it made my head spin.
Once he sent me a screenshot of my own Instagram selfie, followed by a single heart-eye emoji. Which led to two hours on FaceTime with Ethan and Jessie, trying to pinpoint the most casual-yet-effective way to say, Um, I think you’re joke-flirting, but in case you’re also real-flirting, might I remind you that I have a single dorm room.
It was bewildering and infuriating, and I was a Ben-addled mess all over again. I thought about blocking his number. I thought about showing up on his doorstep. I was surrounded by cute boys with loud opinions who liked kissing, so I tried that. But I always ended up alone in my dorm room, poring over Ben’s texts.
Until Mikey.
@ben-jamin liked your photo.
I can’t stop staring at the notification. Of course, it doesn’t say which photo he liked. Could have been my packing-day post, sure. But it could have also been the Stacey Abrams quote graphic I reposted last night, or Sunday’s throwback photo for Mother’s Day, or anything, really. I want to click into the app so badly my fingers are twitching, but I can’t do that in front of Mikey.
That little heart icon.
I wish I knew what it meant.
Probably nothing. Maybe his finger slipped while scrolling. Maybe he doesn’t even know he liked it. I wonder if he’ll unlike it as soon as he realizes. I don’t know if that would make the notification go away or if I’ll get a new notification or— I realize with a start that Mikey just spoke. And I didn’t hear a word of it.
“Wait, sorry.” I swallow guiltily. “What did you say?”
Mikey looks at me. “I said if you want to see him, you should see him.”
“Mikey, I haven’t even talked to him since—”
“February. I know.” He’s blinking a lot. “You said that. A few times.”
I blush. “Well, it’s true.”
February 12th, to be exact.
And I hate it. I hate how far I have to scroll to find Ben’s texts. I hate not knowing if he finished his last TWWW revision, or whether his parents followed through and made him get a job like they threatened. I hate not knowing what he had for breakfast this morning.
I hate that it’s my fault. I’m the one who made it weird. I guess it started when Mikey and I got back together, on New Year’s. But I can’t blame Mikey—it’s not like he asked me not to be friends with Ben. He just always got kind of prickly and distant when Ben’s name came up.
So I stopped bringing his name up.
And I guess that made Ben feel like a thing I was hiding.
“Mikey, Ben liking one Instagram post doesn’t mean we’re suddenly best friends again,” I say, aiming for the space between casual and jovial. But even I can hear the defensive edge in my voice.
I glance sideways, and Mikey’s doing this tic he has sometimes, where he pinches the bridge of his nose behind his glasses. He used to do it a lot first semester. I don’t think it even hit me until now that he’d stopped. He shuts his eyes for a moment. “Can I be really honest with you?”
“Of course.” I scoot an inch closer.
The music’s stopped, and the silence feels boundless and thick. When Mikey speaks at last, his voice is flat. “I know you haven’t talked to him. And even if you did, I trust you, Arthur. You’d never cheat. I know that. I’m just scared.”
I press my thigh against his. “Of what?”
“I don’t know. I guess I feel a little threatened by him. He was your first love. Your big Broadway love story.”
“Two years ago. And I haven’t seen him since then. You know that.”
He nods quickly. “It’s just, what happens when you do see him again?”
“But why would I? I don’t even think he thinks we’re friends at this point.”
Mikey looks at me strangely. “Do you think you’re friends?”
My cheeks go warm. “I mean, we were? I don’t know. He’s my ex. We dated for a few weeks, a million years ago. But I’m with you now. And, Mikey, I really, really like you. I really like us.”
And I do. I really like him. I like Mikey’s face and his voice and his weird nerdy brain, and there are times when I find him so endearing I almost can’t stand it. And we’re so good together. We barely fight. Yeah, he’s been a little moody about New York, but I know we’ll work through that. We always work through stuff. Because we’re mature grown-ups in a mature grown-up relationship, and everything’s good and chill and solid. And I’m happy.