A Life More Complete

---Chapter 11---

Like I said, I could do this job in my sleep, which is what I do. Sleep replaced by a trance of disbelief and total numbness. I speak at the right times, say the right things, fill in the information as need be, but not remembering any of it when the meeting comes to a close. I wish I loved my job the way some people do. I wish I was so involved with something, loved it so much that I could dedicate my time and not have it be a chore. I admire people like that, yet I also loathe them all at the same time. To be that dedicated to anything seems borderline crazy. Melinda grabs my wrist stealing me from my daydream.

“An explanation?” she whispers all the while looking eager. Her leg moving under the table in a quick steady beat as she looks at Tyler while he furiously types on his BlackBerry. His brow is furrowed and he looks deep in thought. He still looks amazing, somewhat more masculine, less like a boy. His features more chiseled and defined, yet his nose shows signs of being broken that weren’t there when I last saw him nearly seven years ago. I suddenly feel obsessed with him, like I can’t get enough. Tyler’s good looks and adorably charming smile are what drew me to him so long ago. Nothing has changed. I can still picture him in his worn out Gap jeans with the permanent ink stain on the back pocket. His backward baseball hat all tattered and torn perfectly, the brim expertly curved. I remember Tom telling me to stay away from boys in backward hats. He claimed that wearing your hat that way made you lose I.Q. points. It only made me want Tyler more. I’m still staring at him when he pulls himself away from his phone. He looks up at me and smiles coyly. I feel my whole body shudder and I look away quickly. When I finally turn toward Melinda she is dumbstruck.

“Seriously. What is going on?” Her voice now more concerned than questioning.

“Long story. Can I explain later?” I hurriedly mumble out as I see Tyler rise from his seat and make his way over to me. He stops in front of the two of us. He addresses Melinda first and she doesn’t even bat an eyelash. Not affected by his presence the way most are, she thinks nothing of him and I can tell by his approach that even he is stunned. She’s always been like this; from the day I met her. Nothing rattles her. She eyes him questionably; looks him up and down, while she assesses his expensive-looking suit. He looks unreal in it, like a model. He’s taller than I remember; lean, but muscular, in a word, seductive. As she looks at his suit I know what she’s thinking; she’s wondering if this is a one shot deal, the only nice suit he owns or if he is really big time, rich as hell. I can tell you it’s the latter. He has been that way since the day he was born and right now I’m hoping he wants her and not me. But I know that’s not the case. She’s not his type. Too skinny, too blonde, too rich, too everything. She takes a disparaging breath and raises her eyebrows.

“So how do you know Kristin?” she asks, nonplussed.

He scoffs at her use of my name. “I knew her when her name was Krissy. We go way back. Old friends, I guess you could say.”

“Funny, she’s never mentioned you.” I sigh and grab her by her wrist. She’s baiting him and she knows it, which makes me uncomfortable but makes her writhe with delight. She loves to make people squirm. It’s not me that her displeasure is being thrust upon, yet second handedly it is. As a close friend she knows what makes me uncomfortable and she saw my reaction to Tyler. This is her way of protecting me, but I don’t want it, not now and definitely not in front of him. I’m appearing weak and she is making it even more obvious.

“Mel? Can you give us a minute?” It’s more of a demand than a request.

“Sure. Whatever you want, friend,” she says while walking out of the room, yet her eyes staying trained on Tyler.

I reach for my purse and laptop bag in an attempt to stay indifferent to his presence. I can feel my chest rising and falling rapidly as I sling the bags over my shoulder. I’m not sure what I’m attempting to accomplish here. Leaving? I know I’m not getting off that easy. I’m never like this. Completely uncontrolled and undone. Every day I meet high profile celebrities, address the media, attend parties and sell happiness like it’s a popsicle on a hot summer day and here I am a bumbling mess of a person. I finally turn and face him, square my shoulders and ask the one question I have been dying to know since I came face to face with him. “What are you doing here, Tyler?”

“I’m working. What are you doing here?” He purses his lips. Smooth, Tyler. Real smooth.

“Don’t be coy. Seriously. Did you do this on purpose? Try to find me?” He gives me a look that says he is totally insulted, almost scorned that I would even think that. Suddenly I’m overcome with embarrassment. I shouldn’t think so highly of myself. Why would he be looking for me? He left me.

“Will you have lunch with me?” he says completely avoiding my question.

“Fine. There’s a deli just around the corner. Let me drop my laptop off in my office. I’ll meet you outside.” I breeze past Melinda’s office and luckily she’s gone. I can’t even begin to try to piece this together for her in the brief few minutes I have. I hit the elevator button and take a few deep breaths trying to quell the urge to tap. Something that had disappeared so suddenly has reappeared with such gusto, it is impossible to stop. I tap, once, twice and a third time before the elevator reaches the ground floor. I shake my hands and exit. There he is looking all business suit professional and oh God, so sexy I’m not sure I can handle it. I pause for a moment and the memories come flooding back like images flashed on a screen. The boy I fell in love with; I can see him so vividly, his crooked smile, the straight white teeth, the tousled curly blonde hair, the way he made my stomach feel every time he placed his hand in mine, his laugh, his flirtatious demeanor. There are no negative emotions only excitement and nervousness. I feel like I’m sixteen again. The memories make my heart hurt as it beats rapidly against my chest. Then he catches my gaze and smiles that perfect heart stopping smile and I feel like I might cry. I can’t even speak, so I push my way through the door and he follows me onto the sidewalk, his feet in time with mine as we walk silently toward the deli.

The deli is buzzing with lunchtime customers and the atmosphere is bustling and busy. Right before placing our orders Tyler, turns to me and says, “What’s good here?” He breaks the silence that could have made even the most self-assured person feel deeply distressed.

“It’s a deli, Tyler. Everything’s good.” It comes out a bit more annoyed than I expected. I order my usual, grilled cheese, tomato basil soup and water. Before I can pay, Tyler nudges his way in front of me, orders and then pays. I thank him as we wait at the counter for our food. He begins to fidget with his hands jammed firmly in his pockets. This is the first sign he has given that he might be slightly uneasy, maybe even unnerved by my company. For some reason it causes me to smirk. Our order is up rather quickly and Tyler grabs the tray making his way to a table in the back of the restaurant. I follow closely behind still trying to figure out what to make of the situation. I take a seat across from him and pull a corner from my sandwich and dunk it into the soup.

“You look skinny,” he says. “Too skinny.”

“Sorry, but that sounds like an insult,” I respond.

“I just like you...” He pauses as if trying not to insult me again, “not so thin. You’re still stunning, though. I think even more so than before.”

“Tyler, you lost the right to say those kinds of things to me when you left. You’re making me uncomfortable.”

“Now I’m insulted,” he says, teasingly. “Really, it’s great to see you. You look well and the last thing I want to do is insult you. If you only knew what seeing you this morning did to me you’d know I’m as nervous as you are.” The mood shifts with his honesty and I feel like maybe I’ve misjudged his arrival and subsequent comments. A fresh emotion washes over me—happiness.

“So, how’ve you been? A lawyer, huh? Never thought you’d actually do it.” I smile at him and he returns it.

“Yep. A few buddies from law school and I started a practice back home in Chicago. Criminal defense, none of that corporate law bullshit my dad loves so much. I’ve always thought about relocating back to the coast and when I was contacted by Trini’s manager, I figured it was a good opportunity for the company to expand.”

“Cool,” I say, actually sounding casual. “So, did you know I was Trini’s publicist when you took the job?” This wouldn’t be so outlandish. If you Googled Trini’s name ninety percent of the time I am pictured standing next to her. He could have very easily located me just based off of her name.

“No. Honestly I didn’t, but I’m glad it turned out this way.” He smiles again and takes a bite of his sandwich. He places his hand in front of his mouth as he chews, beginning to speak before he’s finished the bite. “You’ve done really well. It’s quite impressive, what I’ve seen so far.”

“Thank you. I try. Your mom might actually be impressed with me,” I say jokingly. It’s a known fact that Tyler’s mom hated me. It was the one thing that we would joke about regularly and it always pleased me when he’d use me to get back at her. She was such a controlled, in charge woman, yet she had absolutely no control over me or the fact that Tyler loved me.

“Funny. Shit, she did hate you, but you’ll be happy to know she definitely hates my wife more.” His what? Did he just say wife? The smile drops from my face and the uncomfortable factor returns. Who sits down with an ex-girlfriend, check that, not even just an ex-girlfriend, the ex-girlfriend, the one that lives in infamy, and spouts off lines to her about looking stunning? Tyler, that’s who. Nothing has changed.

“Your wife?” I ask.

“Yes, my wife. Soon to be ex-wife,” he adds casually. “We’ve only been married about a year. Met her in law school, so we’ve been together for a while, but it just didn’t work out. Happens sometimes.” Again, he’s casual; shrugging his shoulders he takes another bite of sandwich.

“How’s your family,” I ask changing the subject. It’s too strange to discuss more deeply. Even though we’re at the age where you marry, maybe even have a kid, I can only picture him at twenty-two.

“They’re fine. Trevor works for my dad. Good thing, because it surely wasn’t going to be me. My mom’s still at the hospital, drugging people before surgery, giving epidurals, the usual. They sold the house a few years ago. Moved to a walk up in Lincoln Park. It’s unreal. The view of skyline is amazing.”

“Of course it is. Have you ever known your parents to do anything half-assed?” He laughs and agrees with me. His parents lived in a magnificent home in a high-end area of Naperville. An in ground pool, the place all marble and slate and sandstone, balconies and peaked roofs, winding staircase and formal everything. The only thing that stood out in that home was Tyler’s room. A messy mix of rumpled sheets and unmade bed, his soccer clothes thrown around and stacks of vinyl albums in the corner. The curtains always closed dimming the unkempt appearance.

“How about you? The family?” he asks with caution.

“Still haven’t spoken to my mother, but what else is new. Rachel is good. Works out in Santa Barbara still. Not sure about Maizey. I haven’t heard from her in a while.”

The conversation is easy. We laugh and catch up like old friends, which is what we are now. We are no longer a couple or that couple that ended badly. I almost forgot why we stopped speaking, then it hits me and I have to stop myself from thinking about it. And as we relive old memories, I begin to remember why I loved Tyler.

I reach for my cup and as I do Tyler places his hand on my wrist, once again sliding his thumb along it. His touch does things to me that make my mind race and my stomach flutter. He smiles weakly.

“I thought you would’ve covered it by now,” he says as I lay my arm flat on the table, palm up. He pulls up the sleeve on his right arm to reveal the other half of the tattoo we both bear. He places his arm next to mine and presses against me. Still a perfect match. “I’ll follow you,” on my wrist and “if you follow me.” on his. The words intertwined on both our wrists, his with a perfect yellow circle and mine with a white petal. When connected it forms the last petal left on a daisy. “He loves me, he loves me not.”

“I couldn’t,” I say truthfully. “It meant something then. I guess its explanation is pretty damn cheesy now. Luckily it’s easy to cover.” I try to sound nonchalant, like it doesn’t still mean something to me. That’s the real reason I didn’t cover it. Meaning nowhere near what it once meant, now I view it as a reminder of what can go wrong, how quickly you can lose love, how fast someone can leave your life, someone who meant so much, but now scarcely exists in your world.

“I guess it’s just a reminder of what we once were,” he says.

“Guess so.”

“Any chance you could give me a lift back to my hotel?”

“This sounds like a pick up line, just so you know.” I joke with him and he laughs and says that maybe it is a pick up line.

“No really, I took a cab here and I don’t want to take one back. If it’s an issue, no big deal.”

“I’m supposed to be working, you know, but I guess I could make an exception just this once.” I roll my eyes at him and he smiles at me. I feel like I want to kiss him. I really need to get control of myself. “I need to stop at my office and let my boss know. I’ll tell her we’re finishing up some things regarding Trini’s case.”

Ellie is fittingly absent so I shoot her a quick email while I get my things together. I grab my laptop just in case I decide to head home after dropping Tyler off. Melinda pops her head in as I’m packing up.

“Hey! I’ve been waiting for you. I’m dying here.”

“Hey, Mel. Listen, I gotta run. I promise I’ll call you tonight.” I peck her on the cheek as I rush past.

“What? You bitch! I am so pissed at you right now!” she yells and practically everyone in the office looks up. I smile and blow her a kiss as I head to the elevator.

“I promise I’ll call you. Love you!” I yell back.

Tyler is waiting and he joins me in the elevator as we take it to the parking garage. Elevators are always weird and he breaks the silence. “Do you still have that white Neon?” I start laughing and he looks at me waiting for an answer.

“No, I don’t. That car would have been, like twelve years old. Plus I totaled it a while ago.”

“Darn it. I liked that car. What happened?”

A serious car accident is one of those things you never forget and in the wake of what I was already dealing with at the time it is even more memorable. I can still recall the slow motion movement, the squealing of the brakes as I forced both feet down on the petal. My hands gripped the steering wheel with such force that my knuckles turned white, then bright red. Small shards of balled up glass raining down on me like snowflakes in winter as the windows gave way upon impact. The worst of it though, the air bag dust; an orange powder that left its print and smell on my clothes. Its smell is forever burned into my memory and on occasion I can still conjure it up. I remember turning my head to the side and closing my eyes, bracing for the worst. The air bag slamming into the side of my face burning my cheek and hands as I completely lost control. The car finally coming to a stop in the middle of the road while drivers honked and sped around me. The radio blaring so loudly, as I reached for a knob that was no longer there, nothing to stop the noise. The Velvet Underground’s “Pale Blue Eyes” playing in a continuous loop, a song that no matter where I’m at or what I’m doing still stops me in my tracks.

I fill him in as we walk to the car. “I was on my way home from work about a week after we broke up.” I pause letting it sink in and hoping he doesn’t bring up the reason he left me. The moment passes and I continue quickly. “It was late. I had bartended that night, so it was around three and a drunk driver hit me head on. She was going the wrong way and I didn’t notice until the last minute. It was too late to swerve and she hit me. Hard.”

“Were you hurt?” His voice is filled with concern. It’s odd to me that he would be concerned about something that happened so long ago. It’s over and obviously I’m fine.

“I broke my cheekbone from the air bag impact. I also had two broken ribs and a punctured lung. It wasn’t too bad. The paramedic said it would’ve been worse without my seat belt and the air bag.”

“How did I not know about this?”

“It was a strange time, Tyler. I didn’t want you there and I know you wouldn’t have wanted to be there either.” I remember the car accident like it was yesterday and I also remember siting in the ER as I picked up the phone multiple times to call him. I felt like I was being a martyr if I called him; that I somehow had caused the accident just to bring him back to me. My logic sounded completely clear at the time. Bringing him there to see me injured and upset would make him want me, forgive me for what I had done, yet it all seemed like a contrived plan.

“I apologize. I should have been there.”

“Water under the bridge.” I stop at my car and he starts laughing. “What?”

“This is your car?” He points at my silver Cabrio, still laughing. “Awesome. This is even better than the Neon.”

“I’m glad you like it. A little piece of home.”

It’s a near replica of the one I had in high school, just newer. We both climb in and as I start the car he says, “You wanna make out in it for old times sake.” I feel my cheeks flush and I shake my head at him. I can’t answer because my answer might just be “yes”. I can see myself straddling him in the passenger seat. His hands in my shirt, over my bra, my lips pressed to his as I lower myself down against the bulge in his jeans. We’re sixteen again and the urgency and need so intense that it wreaks havoc on my senses and makes him grope me without any regard for the possibility of people watching. I stop short of my daydream becoming a nightmare as I almost drive off the road. If he noticed, he doesn’t mention it.

He directs me to The Beverly Hilton and I feel a little guilty that he is staying at a hotel, but I admonish myself for even thinking of having him stay with me. That’s just asking for trouble. We make quiet conversation and I ask how long he is in town and he says indefinitely. He tells me that there is nothing left for him in Chicago with the divorce and everything. His car is being delivered today as well as the rest of his stuff when he can find a place to live. He jokes that his stuff will hopefully make it here. It’s still in the house he shared with his wife. I learn that her name is Charlotte and for some reason all I can picture is a temp we had at the office when Maggie broke her wrist. She was a debutant who hadn’t worked a day in her life and she once wore a Juicy Couture tracksuit on casual Friday. I couldn’t stand her and Melinda took to calling her “Tracksuit” for the three weeks she filled in for Maggie. I picture her applying lip gloss and obsessively primping her hair. If they had had kids she would be pushing a Bugaboo stroller down a sidewalk in Lincoln Park wearing heels and talking on her cell. Their baby cooing and giggling, because God forbid this perfect woman have a colicky baby. Why am I spending so much time on this?

Tyler asks me if I want to stay and have a drink by the pool. I’m beginning to lose trust in my conviction to stay away from him, so I decline. He steps out of the car and leaning down through the open door, he smiles at me. His eyes are pale blue, almost transparent, peaceful and confident. I could get lost just staring at them and I do for a moment.

“It was great seeing you again. I’m sure I’ll see you around,” he says.

“Yeah. I guess we’re together now,” I say winking at him. The look on his face tells me he remembers this line. It was the same line he used on me the day we met.

“Kristin, are you flirting with me? Shameless,” he says, shaking his head with a devious smile on his face and I know he is anything but offended.

“Me? Never. I’ll see you around, Tyler.” He begins to close the door and I stop him. I hand him my business card and tell him to call if he needs anything. I know he is new in town and I’m just trying to be hospitable or at least that’s what I’m telling myself.

I decide to go home and finish working from there. I change into a pair of cotton shorts and a black and white polka dot bandeau bikini top and park myself on my balcony. It’s unseasonably warm for March, ninety-three degrees and the sun makes me smile. Living in California you become spoiled by the beautiful weather, yet regardless of how long I’ve been here I still take in what it has to offer. I finish working around 4:30, as a text causes my phone to buzz on the table beside me.

Ben: I’m sorry I upset you today. I hope the rest of your day went better.

The time with Tyler allowed me to forget about the gaping hole that was left by Ben’s departure just three days ago. But with the text it returns, sinking in and deeper than before. I can feel my heart begin to hurt as it has for some time now. I hate it. I hate the pain and the ache and the mindlessness that has become my life. But I know I need to guard my heart to avoid the weakness that can take over so suddenly. The thought of isolation crosses my mind. It’s the only way, to rid Ben from my life.

Me: I’m fine, please don’t apologize. Sometimes it doesn’t last and this is one of those times. Best of luck to you.

If I’m anything, I’m pragmatic. The message is to the point and when he doesn’t reply I know I’ve definitely isolated him. I’ve isolated myself, our whole relationship. Ignore it. It will go away. At least that’s what I think until someone knocks on my door about half an hour after I sent the text. I overlook the knocking and continue flipping through the channels on my TV when my phone buzzes again. I can’t help but feel slightly annoyed at Ben’s determination. I grab my phone and scroll to the text.

Unknown: Are you gonna answer your door?

I’m taken aback. The number is not one I recognize and a slight panic rises in me. Who sends a creepy text like that? I know it’s not Ben. He’d never intentionally intimidate me or try to scare me. I set my phone down and try to ignore the text just as another one comes in.

Unknown: You said to call if I needed anything. Yet, you’re ignoring me.

I walk to the door and pull it open and there he is in a pair of jeans and an old worn in Cubs t-shirt. I step aside and he walks in.

“Stalker? How do you know where I live?”

“I called your boss, so yes, I am a stalker. I was hoping you could show me around.” He looks me up and down and I feel self-conscious, like a sixteen year old. “Like I said, too skinny.” I shake my head at him and he follows me into the living room.

“Have a seat, I’ll be right back. There’s beer in the fridge if you want one.” I move quickly toward my bedroom and pull on a bra and t-shirt and return to the living room. His feet are on my coffee table, crossed at the ankles, a beer in his hand as his eyes are trained on the SportsCenter top ten for the day. He turns and smiles at me. I’m far more nervous around him than any twenty-eight year old should ever be. He takes a long drink of his beer and then says, “You didn’t have to change just for me.”

“So, do you want to see the beach?” I ask, overlooking his comment.

“Sure. Can we walk or should we drive?”

“Drive. It’s a few miles, unless you want to walk it.”

“Let’s walk,” he says, winking at me. “We can catch up, maybe have dinner?”

“You seem to be making it a habit. Dining with me?” He laughs and says I’m great company. “There’s a really good Mexican place on the beach. The fish tacos are to die for.”

“Perfect,” he says as he stretches out his hand in an effort to get me to take it. I just look at him and he drops it to his side. “It was worth a shot.” He smiles again and it wears on me. Each smile breaks me down just a little bit.

Sitting together at a picnic table, we eat our tacos and black beans, rice, chunky guacamole, the usual. It’s the way it was before things turned ugly.

“You can still eat like I remember. A metabolism like a hummingbird,” he says watching me as I inhale the tacos as quickly as he does. He’s right. I eat like a midwestern girl, not like the girls who were born and raised on the beaches of California. I love food too much.

“Good genes,” I reply nonchalantly. “At least I got something positive from my mother.”

“Can you believe you live here?” he asks looking out at the water. The beach is quiet, waves rolling in as they pull away leaving sandy foam in their path. It’s as beautiful as it looks in the movies.

“I know. I love it here. Sometimes I feel like the people who live here take it for granted, become immune to its beauty, but not me. Never. It took far too much for me to get here.” I don’t say it but I owe Tyler a lot. He’s the reason I’m here.

When my grandparents died my sisters and I inherited a significant amount of money. It was specified in the will that we were to use the money as we saw fit, but suggestions were posted to obtain a college degree and purchase a home with the money. Being on my own, I hoarded the money, terrified of being unable to support myself. I spent a minimal amount of my inheritance during my four years in college. Tyler covered my living expenses, my food, and at one point, my tuition for my entire sophomore year. I paid cash for my first year at CSULB and planned on taking student loans for the rest. I needed the money I had from my inheritance to sustain me until I found a stable job. Tyler stepped in and paid my tuition in full. He never said it, but I knew it was him. He covered the next semester too when the bill came. He is the reason I finished college, the reason I had the money to buy a car when mine was a goner and the reason I live in the home I do today. My inheritance would have only lasted so long and he knew I couldn’t go back.

“I’m supposed to go look at places tomorrow with a real estate agent. I was hoping you’d join me. Give me a hand? Your opinion?” he asks.

I hesitate and then answer him. “It’s nice of you to ask, but I don’t think it’s a good idea. You’ll be fine on your own.”

“Are you sure? I’d just like your opinion. Nothing more. I promise. I won’t even buy you lunch,” he teases. He can see the reluctance in my eyes, so he folds his hands in front of him and says, “Please.” I’m weak, so I give in. He looks far too thrilled with himself and it makes me smile.

Tyler pays for dinner and we walk along the beach. The wind has picked up and it runs over me causing me to shiver. Goose bumps rise on my skin from my arms down to my legs. Tyler reaches over and runs a slow soft hand down the length of my arm. I hold my breath. His touch burns my skin and my fingertips begin to tingle. I turn away from him quickly, my eyes focused on the sand.

“Are you cold?” he asks, running his hand back up my arm. The air in my lungs blows out on its own accord. This time my breathing speeds up and turns uneven.

“Yes, but now it’s more than just that.” The words stumble from my mouth, disjointed; a mess. “Don’t touch me. It’s just that I...I don’t know. I can’t have you touching... doing, um, that stuff. It makes me, I don’t know. Just don’t. That’s all.” I have no idea what I just spewed from my mouth, and I can tell by the look on Tyler’s face that neither does he. But his words tell me my point is made.

“Okay, sorry. I didn’t realize it made you so uncomfortable. To me, it’s like we picked up right where we left off. It doesn’t feel like I haven’t seen you in seven years. With you it’s easy. It always has been.”

“Sorry. I’m being ridiculous.”

“I just remember you were always cold. No matter how warm it was outside you’d still sleep with a down comforter on the bed. Made me sweat my ass off.” He laughs and I playfully elbow him as we walk.

“Still am and you’re not the only one who complains about the down comforter.” This is where I decide to tell him about Ben. “My ex really hated it, too. Complained constantly, even more than you.” I take a deep breath. “We broke up recently.” I fail to mention just how recently, like just over seventy-two hours ago. What the hell am I doing? “We’d been together for a while. I guess around three years, but it didn’t work out. It happens, right?” He nods his head but doesn’t comment. We walk in silence the rest of way home until I spot his car.

“Really, Tyler? A Range Rover? Come on?”

“What can I say? I succumbed to the pressures of high society. Without you around to keep me grounded I just couldn’t stop myself.” He smiles a closed mouthed smile and his eyes wrinkle a bit at the corners. All I can do is laugh. “Well, good night, Kristin or can I call you Krissy?”

“If you must,” I reply. He extends a hand to me. I look down at his hand as I put my hand on his chest. I lean in and place a soft kiss on his cheek. I can feel his heart beat quicken under my hand. It has the same effect on me. “Good night, Tyler.”

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow around 8:00,” he says quietly, slightly askewed. “Unless that’s too early.”

“Nope. 8:00 is fine,” I say as I walk away.

I immediately notice that the dull ache in my chest is gone replaced by a desire to be close to Tyler. It takes only a second for me to realize the best way to get over Ben is to find a rebound. It will dull the pain long enough for me to move on. Being with Tyler curbs my need for Ben, eases my pain, but with Tyler there are conditions, outside factors that could make it difficult. It’s when we cross the line from harmless flirting to something more that things get complicated. I’ve been there before and I’m pretty sure I’m teetering on the edge right now.