Page 22 of Heartbeat

“It wasn’t?” she asked, trying not to smile.

“After I saw Summer, I kinda hit the bar and forgot my phone.”

“O-kay,” she said slowly.

“He’d just been stood up by this girl, and we started talking and, uh, he thought I was too drunk to go home alone.”

“That was nice of him.”

“Yeah, nice.”

She raised her brow. “It wasn’t?”

“No, it was,” I said. “He’s nice.”

“Is nice bad?”

“No, nice is just— Look, I said it didn’t matter.”

“So you did. Before you tell me why it doesn’t matter, can I ask one question?”

I sighed. “Fine.”

“You said you felt weird around him.”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Can you tell me how, exactly?”

“I don’t know how. All I know is I end up saying stuff I don’t mean to say and agree to shit I shouldn’t.”

“What did you—”

“And I notice things I shouldn’t be noticing, such as certain things he says or how he smells of chlorine.”

She smiled.

“What?” I asked, somewhat annoyed.

“So he’s familiar, easy to talk to, and smells nice?”

I didn’t answer her. How would I even begin to answer her?

“I want to talk about Summer,” she said.

“Great.” I didn’t even hide my relief.

“Did you love her?”

Fuck, she was really on a roll.

“What?”

“Do you think what you felt for her was love?”

“It’s not a fair question.”

“Why isn’t it fair?”

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