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griffin
An hour later, the two of us are settled on Vivi’s bed, sharing a box of all-meats pizza.
She’s texting someone frantically, probably all about her ex’s audacity, while I’m flicking through the TV, looking for something to watch.
I land on a new channel, and the reporter introduces herself as Imogen McSomething. You have got to be kidding me. I don’t realize I groan out load until Vivi’s wide eyes flick over to me. “She’s everywhere.”
“Who is?” she asks all-obliviously, putting down her phone. Then she flutters her pretty lashes. “Immy?”
“Shut up,” I say. Because I’d rather not broach this at any point. Even her name is a trigger. Of course, Vivi would notice. She notices everything. But she could do me a favor and keep pretending to be oblivious to spare me the embarrassment of having ever dated Imogen Morgan.
“I mean, come on, it was pretty obvious you two had a thing. What happened?”
“What happened between you and Zander?” I shoot back.
She purses her lips, then speaks. “If you think it’s something big and dramatic, then I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed.”
I adjust the pillow behind me and turn my head toward her. “I’m all ears.” Call me a hypocrite, I’ll take hearing about her ex instead of sharing about mine.
“He just dumped me, unceremoniously. Nothing special. I thought we were in love, turns out he fell out of love with me. Then today, he tries to insinuate that I joined the show because of him.” Vivi starts laughing, because it’s “all so ridiculous and pathetic”, but I don’t.
“That’s bullshit.” I’m not sure why I feel irritated on her behalf. Maybe because she already sounds defeated, like she’s used to being pushed around like that by guys. Maybe because she’s trying to laugh about it when nothing’s funny, but she’d rather make fun of herself than admit that.
“You’re telling me,” She says, as her laughter subsides. “Looking back, he did grow distant when we were dating. I was always, like, the over-emotional, desperate one, and he’d treat me as such.”
“It’s not bad to care,” I say, an eyebrow raising. Admittedly, the part of me that’s offended might feel that way because the “caring too much” part hits way too close to home. “He clearly just didn’t.”
She shrugs, lips drawn into a line. “It is what it is. Anyway, enough about all of that. You going to tell me about Immy now or do I have to beg?”
“Beg?” I’m just a twenty-seven year old teenage boy. Sue me.
“Seriously, Griff.”
I trill my lips, then lean back against the headboard, eyes on the ceiling.
I start talking about her before I have the chance to stop myself. “She used to live in Connecticut, but came to Manhattan to see about expanding her business. She met me at a cafe next to the fire station.” She was cute, silly. Smart. Of course, I liked her. “Long story short, we chatted it all up, went on a few dates. She practically moved in. It all went so fast.”
I remember the guys being worried, because I hadn’t ever had a girl that stuck since Imogen, and within weeks of meeting her, I was talking about us moving in together. I remember Ryan —my best friend since my first day at the station— telling me that I might want to slow down, but I got pissed off at him and he finally retreated, holding his tongue whenever Imogen was around. Which ended up being a lot of the time. I apologized to him after the break-up, and he was real enough to avoid saying “I told you so” when I was pretty much at my lowest post-Imogen.
I allow Vivi a moment to picture it. Me falling for Imogen’s freckles and ringlets and wide smile. Me asking her out. Us planning a future together. Us moving in together, me giving her a copy of my key for the apartment.
“Okay,” she finally asks, pulled back out of thought. “So how did it all go to shit?”
“Well, she worked remotely at first—for her business—but then she decided she needed to be in Connecticut. So, she kept bouncing back and forth between the states. She was never home. I became, like, this burden for her. It was too much for her, so she chose her business.” Which is a simplified way of explaining what happened. It was more like I was a good time for her, but nothing permanent, so she used her business as a cop-out. She knew the drive between us would be under two hours. She knew the commute was doable. She knew I would do it for her.
“I’m sorry.” Vivi’s confused. She’s probably making the same calculations in her head. Because that shouldn’t be a problem, not for two people who equally wanted to make it work.
“I felt like it could work,” I finally admit. “Hell, I was even willing to move or travel with her, and told her so. But then it got really clear that I was fighting harder for us, I was pushing more. She was more than willing to let me go, so she did. Didn’t even want to give us a shot.”
And then, the kicker: “Turns out she had a boyfriend in Connecticut the whole time.”
“You’re kidding.” Vivi sits up at this knew piece of information.
Oh, imagine our surprise. By “our”, I’m referring to me and the blond family guy back in Connecticut who discovered our girlfriends were actually one and the same. Through Instagram of all places. Because Imogen Morgan couldn’t even break my heart the right way.
“Wish I was,” I say. “They broke up soon enough.” I laugh, unamused. “Apparently, people don’t like to be cheated on. Who woulda thought?
“I’m sorry.” Vivi says again. And she shouldn’t be apologizing, because it’s not her fault.
“Don’t be. It’s got nothing to do with you.”
She sighs, watching me fold my pizza slice as she bites into hers, then says, “Maybe we’re both doomed to caring more.”
I snort. “Funny way of saying we’re losers.”
“We? Don’t drag me into all that.”
Then I grin, a real grin, for the first time since delving into this story.
“Always makes me blush whenever you’re mean to me.”
She coos, patting my thigh with her hand. I shiver, but she doesn’t seem to notice. Thankfully. That would be an abrupt shift in the mood. “Aw. Well, thank you for opening up. And for the pizza.”
“Finally, some appreciation around here.” I throw my hands up for effect.
She laughs. That’s all that really matters.