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“I don’t think it’s a rebound when it’s two years after the divorce,” Bobby mumbles. “I don’t think you’re giving him enough credit, Lizzie.”

“It’s all wrong!” I wave my hands over my head. “I should’ve never hooked up with him. But I was feeling brave and we had good chemistry and then we slept together and we kept sleeping together and now it’s a mess because he told me he wanted everything even though there’s no way he knows that because we’ve just met and that he can’t just stand still while I push him away, so now we’re not even fucking anymore which sucks because it was really good, like earth-shatteringly good, and now we can’t anymore because he had to go and suggest I sleep over when I said I couldn’t, so now I will die alone and I don’t even have a job yet and I thought things were falling into place with the sex and the job and the Roxie and now I don’t have Joe and he works at fucking Qpik, so I can’t even take that job if I get it—”

Suddenly out of steam, I bury my face in my hands and let out a long, frustrated groan.

“Feeling better?” Bobby smiles and pats me on the back.

“Yes,” I admit after a few moments, my breath steadying. “A little.”

“Good. Then you will be okay if I go hook up with Trey.”

“I will. Of course.” I take a few deep breaths. “Thanks for listening.”

“Anytime. Look, it’s going to be okay. None of this is the end of the world, you know? You’re just overwhelmed. You will get the job sooner than you know, and you’ll make new friends, and soon you won’t even remember me and Mickey...”

“Bobby?”

“Yeah?

“Do Mom and Dad hate me? Because I left?”

“No, Lizzie. They don’t hate you. But they definitely want you back, and I hate to say it, but it’s a little more self-serving than I expected of them. They love us and they want us to be happy, as long as we stay nearby and our happiness is of the kind they’re comfortable with.”

“I’m sorry, Bobby.” I squeeze his hand. “I’m sorry you have to hide yourself from them.”

He shrugs. “It is what it is.” He looks up from where I am holding his hand, a small smile on his lips. “Your knowing already makes all the difference. Honestly, these past few days here with you have been some of the best I’ve ever had. And if you ever let me leave this car so I can go meet Trey, today might become even better.” He grins and waggles his eyebrows.

“Shit!” I drop his hand. “Of course. Okay, come inside so I can give you a spare key, and then off you go to have your mind blown.”

“Won’t be my mind, though.”

I gasp in pretend horror and smack him on the shoulder. He laughs, and we joke all the way up to the apartment. By the time he leaves, I’ve settled on the couch with some snacks and a Netflix special, and I don’t think about texting Joe at all. Almost. Well, not very much after the first two dozen times.

****

Roxie: How’s it going?

Liz: I’m okay. You? Did you have a nice evening?

Roxie: It was okay. Not a good place to pick up guys. Too many people from work

Liz: Yeah, that would suck

Roxie: So you and Joe Larson?

Liz: Yeah, I guess. For a minute. And it was nothing really

Roxie: Didn’t seem like nothing

You could cut pheromones with a knife

A stupid pheromone knife

Really just a butter knife that you can use to cut through pheromones and then also spread them on stuff

Would pheromones be tastier on white bread or whole grain?

Or maybe sourdough?