He was waiting for the words ‘Well, I actually have to go’ or something of the like to slip through his lips or hers, ending the interaction. But selfishly, he feared hearing them. He feared the popping of the little bubble they had created. Sure, it wasn’t the most comfortable of bubbles, there were awkward pauses and a nostalgic sort of pressure surrounding them, but it was theirs, and for once he found himself not wanting to leave it.—He knew it wasn’t a good idea to try and make this, whatever this was, last longer. Their relationship had been romantic in nature for so long that he doubted a friendship would be possible, and they broke up for a reason, something he needed to remind himself of. —— His hands crawled into the front pockets of his favorite faded jeans, suddenly hyperaware of what they were doing, or rather what they weren’t doing. He swallowed, a small lump having built up in his throat, his adam’s apple bobbing nervously.
“Yeah, uh, you too, Ginny.—She’s good, you know, nose in a book like usual.”
Her mind was racing with a series of ‘ what ifs’ and ‘almosts’. What if she hadn’t lashed out angrily every time he disappeared to the other side of the world? What if he had been patient even when he made it impossible. Where would they be now if she hadn’t packed a bag six months ago. Would she be happy? Would they be happy? So much was left unsaid between them. It would have been easier to bury it all and let it rest in peace, but looking at him? Listening to a nickname for her used solely by him? Every little wound seemed to reopen -- every little unspoken question --- every little what if threatened to come pouring out. It took everything within her to stuff all of her questions, accusations, and desires back into a compartment of her heart and carry on with mindless small talk. Smile, more forced than ever, made its way to her lips.
“That’s really good. Tell her I said hello, yeah? Dogs too. “
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