Page 120 of Like You Want It

Well. Notallof the words. Just the last one.

Yet.

Because there is quite the implication behind it.

An expectation.

Of something more.

Wanting.

A desire forbecoming.

Fin remains silent and we keep watching the rest of the episode.

Correction. The show stays on the TV, but neither of us are watching it. Fin is staring at my television in a bleary haze, and I’m watching Fin stare at my television in a bleary haze.

It’sfascinating.

I can tell he’s shut down completely.

And there’s something in my chest that feels like a timer, like I’m just counting down the moments until the wheels fall off.

“Hey, look. I think I’m gonna take off,” he says, standing once the episode has finished. “There’s a lot going on at work this week and I have a full day of prep tomorrow.”

We both know he’s not leaving because of work.

I can feel the way our relationship has shriveled in just the past moments.

Relationship is too strong of a word. Friendship, maybe? Sexual partnership, perhaps? Either way, whatever we were slowly becoming is now gone. Like Fin’s tattoo, we’ve gone up in smoke.

And I feel the lance of loss shove swiftly and aggressively through my chest.

But I give him a smile and nod anyway.

“No problem,” I say, snuggling into the couch to hide my feelings, wrapping my arms around my knees. “I totally understand.”

But it is a problem. And I don’t understand.

Fin gives me a tight smile and tugs on his jacket, then gives me a wave before making a hasty retreat.

Without the normal kiss he gives me. Without a hint at whether I’ll be seeing him again soon.

I stare blankly as a new episode pops onto the screen, Kimmy and Titus walking down a street in New York together. I don’t hear a word of the dialogue. I watch a few episodes like that, not really following the story.

So eventually, I just turn it off.

«««« »»»»

Fin does a disappearing act after that.

He doesn’t swing by my apartment. He doesn’t come to the coffee shop. He doesn’t contact me, and he doesn’t come to Susie’s for dinner.

And to be honest? I’m not at all surprised.

I just wish he’d had the fucking balls to tell me to my face that he didn’t want to see me anymore. Or that something I said made him uncomfortable.

But I guess conversation isn’t his strong suit.