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“Oh. Sorry.”
Terra shakes her head at me as I drop the ground beef back into the bowl we’re working from. We’re almost done, and I don’t want to mess everything up, so I let her take over and wash my hands in the sink. Before starting on the dirty dishes, I read over my to-do list for the day.
1. Weekly meal prep w/Terra.
2. Read digital marketing chapters 11–14.
3. Finish microeconomics PowerPoint.
4. Create Habitat for Humanity fundraiser flyer.
5. Go to spin class.
6. Don’t call Ben.
Don’t call him. There’s no reason to call him.
It’s been three weeks since I last saw Ben. The fact that I know that shows just how much it’s nagging at me.
Whenever he texted, I would get silly butterflies in my belly. Then, I smothered those presumptuous bugs with delayed one-worded answers. Apparently, he took the hint because the messages have stopped coming.
Instead of feeling satisfied, I find myself staring at my phone, even when I shouldn’t, like in the middle of class or when I should be looking for my bus stop. Or when I’m cooking with my roommate.
“Where’s your mind?” Terra grabs the last handful of meat, carefully shaping it before lining it up with the others on a baking sheet.
For a moment, I just chew on my lip. Maybe talking about my inappropriate stomach butterflies will help to get rid of them. “Ben and I hung out a few weeks ago.”
She finishes putting the tray of meatballs in the oven and then turns to lean on the closed door. Cats dance across her yellow apron, wearing little chef hats and holding spatulas. “What happened?”
I shrug. “Nothing really. It was friendly and fun. But a couple of times … there were like a few moments …” I struggle to describe what happened.
“Did he do something to you?”
“What?”
The scowl on her face makes it clear that I’m doing a bad job of explaining myself.
“Oh gosh, Terra, no! That’s not what I’m saying.”
“Then, what?”
“I-I think there was attraction. Like just a spark or two. At least, on my end.”
Terra bites her lip as a grin threatens to overtake her face.
“Stop it!”
“Stop what?”
“Looking like I just made your day. This isn’t a good thing!”
“Why not? He seems like a sweet guy. In fact, I think I like him more than any other guy you’ve dated.”
“What’s wrong with the guys I’ve dated?” I move to the sink and begin washing dishes by hand, scrubbing harder than is necessary.
“We’re using a very loose definition of the word ‘dated.’” She uses her fingers to create quotes before sticking her own hands under the faucet. “And the rare times I met a guy you were hooking up with, I got the feeling you weren’t interested, which made me not interested in getting to know him.”
An image of Roderick pops into my head. He took me cutting things off well. When I texted him that I wasn’t feeling our setup anymore, I thought he might insist on calling me or meeting up. But he let go nice and easy, which was a huge relief.
