Limits
wc 7k
Pushover vs Cycles
Limits, everyone has them. Take the most patient and understanding human in the world– even they have limits. They’re everything, they’re what makes us human but, because we’re human, those limits are different for each individual. Some people are designed to take more than others, some people are destined to be ultra-forgiving from the get-go. Others are fated to hold onto resilience like their lives depend on it.
And when a push-over and the personification of imperviousness are put together, they’re forced into a standstill—a relationship with a net force zero, bound for absolutely nothing. There’s no room for improvement when the surplus of toxicity eats up all the time and energy.
In this case, most people would bet money on the pushover holding out in the relationship longer than the impervious. Surely, the pushover could take it– the ceiling is already built so high. The room might be suffocating and constricting, they might be drowning in constant manipulation and disappointment but all they had to do was swim to the top.
There is air above the surface. Swim up and breathe before diving back down.
Just breathe.
Breathe, breathe, breathe.
And the cycle begins again when their head breaks the metaphorical surface. On instinct, the pushover will gasp for air and then dive back down, sinking from the insanely high ceiling to the bottom where the impervious one will wait to share in a breath of air with them.
And for a little while, it lasts. That refreshing air enters their bloodstream, it’s euphoric almost. It gives the pushover hope that maybe the impervious one will reach down and pull the plug from the bottom of the room. To release a bit of the toxicity so the journey to the surface wouldn’t be so... painstaking.
Of course, this won’t happen. It never does.
And when the shared breath is gone, the pushover will swim back to the surface to retrieve another.
However, time is constant. The surface will continue to rise and the pushover will continue to grow weak. The swim to the top will start seeming more harsh and rugged. There won’t be an incentive given to the pushover to keep going so the exhaustion will be inevitable. The fight to keep them both breathing won’t seem like it’s worth it anymore.
So, rather than allowing themselves to drown in the chaos for a moment longer, the pushover will swim to the top for a gulp of air one last time, willing and pleading with themselves to not dive back down to share it with the impervious one.
The pushover will tell themselves that it’s alright, there’s no need to panic. The impervious one will survive, they have to. After all, the toxicity cesspool is an environment they aided in creating, setting the foundation for something so unstable that the majority would find it unsuitable.
But, there’s a reason a pushover is called a pushover.
Without fail, the pushover will look down, hoping to see the other swimming up to get their own air. Of course, that’s not the case–it never will be the case. Instead of focusing on the disappointment, the pushover will see just how clear the virulence looks around them– almost as if it doesn’t exist. For a moment, just a single moment, that will be enough to start the sway in the pushover’s mind. And the breaking point, the moment when they cave is when they notice how the impervious one looks up at them with a pleading expression.
That’s all it will take to snap the pushover’s resolve, giving them the motivation to dive back down and share a breath with the other. And as they swim down, they’ll notice that the world around them isn’t as clear as they thought it to be.
The clarity was an illusion.
It’s a simple fucking illusion used to trick the weak-minded, sympathetic, and ultra-forgiving.
And it will work every single time.
Until an outside force is introduced, driving a wedge between the two and breaking the illusion all together– shattering the entire fucking room into millions of pieces.
But that savior wasn’t always a given.
And sometimes the only way to break the cycle is to give in and let it consume your entirety.
Boyfie: Sorry about last night, cutie. You know I love you. You know I’m trying. You deserve someone better. I wish we would have never met. You should leave me.
I glanced over his messages from this morning with a scoff. Disgust swirled around in my gut before my guilt kicked in and snuffed it out. Feeling something like disgust for my boyfriend, my only friend I’ve had over the last four years, it was gnawing at me. Deep down, I knew I had every right to feel disgusted towards him after last night but my brain was fried. At this point, I wasn’t sure what to feel.
He did apologize.
But did that really mean anything? How many times has he apologized for the same shit, promising he’d never do it again, promising that he’d do better, only for that to get thrown back in my face? I mean, a pile of dog shit with a shiny red bow on it was still just a pile of dog shit. The shiny red bow of apology was starting to seem...insincere.
Sorry doesn’t fix the hours I wasted last night being berated on the phone for something so minuscule and irrelevant.
Sorry doesn’t fix the horrible words that were slung my way in an attempt to hurt my feelings.
Sorry doesn’t fix the dark circles under my eyes and the sleep deprivation I was feeling right now as I sat in class.
And sorry doesn’t fix the fact that I have to sit at my desk today, seething in vindictive anger, while he gets to catch up on the sleep he stole from both of us last night.
My pushover attitude was starting to merge into plain exhaustion and lack of interest. I hated that I felt that way about someone I love but I just can’t be bothered anymore.
Me: It’s okay. Idc.
Fuck, if past me could get a gander at this shit show, she’d be rolling on the floor in laughter– maybe even in hysterics. Since when was I someone who let this type of treatment slide?
Oh, right, since four years ago when I decided to cave into getting a boyfriend.
Since then, I’ve just become so tired. I didn’t care about much anymore. I had my cats, they brought me joy. Granted, it was a very large chunk of joy so that required a lot of my care. I was happy to give it to them, it was a lovely distraction.
And that was pretty much the only thing that did bring me joy as of late. Before, I was chasing those good moments with my boyfriend, desperate to get my next fix of happiness from him. That is until the highs stopped feeling so high and the lows started feeling really, really low.
When it’s good, it’s great. When it’s bad, it’s really bad.
The good times used to outweigh the bad but now, it was the opposite. The bad was just not worth the small, bare minimum bit of good I received.
So when I received his next message while packing up from another lecture I barely listened to, I couldn’t help but feel gut-wrenchingly annoyed.
Boyfie: I just feel like you don’t love me
God, at this point, I wasn’t sure what else I needed to give him to placate this feeling he had.
I love him, I really do.
I gave him all of my love, most of my attention. So many things I’ve sacrificed to make him happy, no matter the risk to my reputation and other relationships that definitely deserve my time more than him. I’d never say that to him, though. He’d get angry and that was one thing I couldn’t take.
I could just leave. I could block him and go home. It’s not like he could follow me home, he didn’t drive and the chances of his mother allowing him to use the car were pretty slim. I could end this with a simple click of the ‘block’ button.
So, why haven’t I?
The answer; my foresight likes to show me fictional shit and paints it like it could be my reality if I just stick around a little longer.
A little longer and maybe he’ll get his life together.
A little longer and maybe he’ll start working towards a future with me.
A little longer and maybe he’ll do something to help with his mind.
A little longer and maybe he’ll stop treating me like shit.
People had their limits and I was quickly approaching mine. I was sick of being second best to his own excuses. Why wasn’t I good enough to work towards being a functional person? Why wasn’t I worth the truth instead of the same bullshit lie fed to me over and over again.
I’m sure he does feel like I don’t love him right now. It’s hard to portray a happy girlfriend when I’m so mentally exhausted, stuffed full of broken promises, and forced to wear unfounded assumptions on my back like a big red target.
I never cheated.
But he did– sorry, almost did. Had the sexting website not been behind a paywall, his broke ass would have. Personally, I think the intent is worse than the action itself.
And I let that go– too tired to actually give a shit about something so... non-threatening? Dare I say, irrelevant? He could have gone through with it, too and I still don’t think I could find it in myself to care.
He had chewed me up and spit me out repeatedly over the last four years and I still haven’t left. It’s my own fault that I stood here today as a shell of a woman. I didn’t expect pity and I didn’t want it either. I blame myself for my lack of happiness.
Yet, there was always that small chance that everything would get better and the two of us could live a long, happy life.
That was the driving thought that made me respond to his text with as much happiness as I could muster.
Me: You know I love you
Me: I love you so much
The guilt intensified as I hit ‘send’, pushing those words over to his phone while I felt nothing but complete annoyance that I’d had to reiterate my love for him yet again. What else could I give him? He didn’t even know the answer to that.
He had my free time, he had my relationship, he had my loyalty, he had my attention, he had my love. What else could I give him besides my life? Sometimes I wondered if that was what he genuinely wanted. Some of the arguments he pulls out of nowhere, it seems like he’s just trying his hardest to push me to that ledge.
Unfortunately, this pushover has terrible balance and a fear of heights. If he got me to the ledge, it wouldn’t take more than a slight breeze to make me fall. I wonder if he knew that.
The sun had just started peeking over the horizon as I stepped out of my early morning lecture. Nothing gets the blood pumping quite like the principles of biochemistry while downing yet another energy drink. I slurped the remaining liquified heart attack from the rim of the can before tossing it in the trash as I fast-walked down the sidewalk toward the hottest cafe in town.
As I neared it, there was already a line of patrons standing outside. I moved through the line with ease, trying my best not to piss any of them off or step on their expensive, polished shoes.
Poppy’s Pastries was the hottest cafe in town because of its convenient location. That being only a couple blocks from the college campus and just across the street from a long strip of various office buildings. Most notably being the Pennington-Sinclair Enterprise Tower, the biggest office building on the strip, staffed with so many important people. And all of them with a crippling caffeine addiction and a sweet tooth that only Poppy’s Pastries can cure. Lucky me, I get to take care of them all.
All by myself, too.
“Good morning, Poppy!”
“Morning, Poppy!”
“Hey, Poppy!”
I forced a smile for the line of patrons who made space for me to get through. After a couple of years of me running the morning shift, these people knew the only way to get in was to let the shift lead through as she was the only one who had a key. “Good morning! Sorry to keep you all waiting in the cold. Class ran over a little bit today,” I explained while pushing the door open, allowing everyone to come in behind me.
The regulars knew the routine by heart so while I went to the back to change into my uniform, they perused the pastry selection and made small talk with one another.
My hands smoothed down my black dress, rubbing out the creases before tying my cream-colored apron around my waist. As I took the first order, I pulled my hair into a clip and washed my hands before getting to work, clearing out the morning rush within half an hour.
I let out a deep, much needed sigh as the last customer exited the shop, a little ‘ding’ from the bell signaling their departure. In the midst of my rushed cleaning, I didn’t notice that someone had entered the shop right after the last customer.
"Ahem-” I gasped and spun around to see a new face at the register.
A new, handsome face.
“I am so sorry, I didn’t hear anyone else come in.” The man didn’t acknowledge my apology as I rushed over to take care of him. “What can I-”
“What’s the sweetest pastry you have?” He asked, cutting me off abruptly as he glanced over the display case.
I didn’t even have to think, I already knew the answer as it was my absolute favorite. “In my opinion, honey bread is the sweetest.”
His dark green eyes flicked to me for a moment. “Honey bread? Doesn’t sound very sweet.”
I nodded. “It’s more like a slice of cake.”
“So, why not call it cake?” He asked, now reading through the drink menu that hung on the wall behind me.
“The only cake people feel comfortable eating in the morning is a pancake. Even if the honey cake has the same amount of sugar as one of the danishes, their guilty conscience says they should pick the danish over the cake because it’s healthier. Of course, that’s only an assumption. It was called honey bread when I started working here but I’ll be sure to bring it up to the owner. Maybe we should change it.”
Fuck, was I rambling?
He dragged his eyes away from the chalkboard, looking rather bored. Or tired. Probably both.
“You don’t own this place?” He took note of my name tag with a nod of his head.
“Nope, just an employee with the same name. Most would say it’s a coincidence but I’d say it’s fate.”
“Fated to be a barista? Doesn’t sound very... fulfilling,” He retorted sardonically. “Is this what you’ve strived for?”
He wasn’t the first person to look down on me for being a barista, that title actually goes to my boyfriend. I’m sure this man won’t be the last either. But, it’ll be the last time this particular gentleman looks down on me again because my limit for bullshit was quickly approaching.
“I’d say it’s more fulfilling than whatever boring office job you slave away for all day. And, to answer your question, I’m striving for a bachelor’s degree in biology.”
The corners of his mouth twitched slightly before he sighed, feigning arrogance once more. “I didn’t mean to offend you, Poppy.”
“Not offended, just tired.”
“I’m sure. Being a student and working part-time has to be tough.” There he was, speaking with that condescending tone again. What the hell?
I frowned and leaned forward across the counter. “I’m sorry, are you being rude on purpose or are you just that socially unaware of how you’re perceived?”
He snickered and pulled out his wallet. “Not rude, just tired and unapologetically blunt.”
I clicked my tongue, forcing a smile to move past his blatant mockery. “Right. Well, what can I get for you?”
“Honey cake and a small black coffee.” I felt his eyes on me as I moved to gather his order and it was starting to cause insecurity to ripple across my skin. “So, what are your plans after getting that degree you’re striving for?”
“Medical school,” I quipped, sliding him his coffee.
“Interesting.” He sounded genuinely surprised. “What field?”
“Pathology. Forensic pathology,” I answered, bending at the waist to grab the cake from the case.
“Those are the people that do autopsies on dead people and stuff, right? Morgue doctors?”
I took his card from his outstretched hand to run his payment, immediately noticing it was a Black Credit Card. “Yeah.”
“Why would you ever want to do that?”
And there’s that accusatory tone again.
“Well, unlike this job where I have to fake pleasantries with passive aggressive people, as a forensic pathologist, the only thing I deal with are corpses who lack the ability to talk.”
His mouth spread into a sharp grin, and in that moment, he could’ve resembled a shark. “And here I thought we were having a pleasant conversation.”
I passed him back his card, sliding his wrapped up honey cake across the bar, too. “Perhaps if you didn’t speak to me like I’m inferior to you, the conversation could be pleasant.”
He smirked, irritatingly so. “I apologize if that’s how I’m coming across. I’m only curious why someone like you would want to work in a morgue.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Well, for starters, your nails are all sparkly and you’ve got a pink bow in your hair.”
I rolled my eyes and began wiping down the counters, hoping he’d take a hint and leave. “Your point seems irrelevant.”
“You just don’t seem like someone who would want to work with dead people."
“And what do you do, then?”
“You hit the nail right on the head earlier. Boring 9 to 5 office job; pushing papers, signing lines, etcetera, etcetera.”
“Hmm, interesting,” I hummed sarcastically, looking at my imaginary wristwatch. “Oh, and would you look at that? It’s almost nine. You better get going.” I waved him off with my rag and a scoff, a sound he seemed to have enjoyed as he heeded my warning and retreated out of the shop with an amused goodbye.
Unfortunately, that would not be the last time I’d have the miserable pleasure of dealing with him today. At noon, the time my shift ended, he entered once again, interrupting the conversation my coworker and I were having as I was removing my apron.
“Ugh, why are you here again?” I groaned, causing Leslie to gasp.
“So sorry about her! How can I help you?” Leslie asked, pulling away from me with a smile.
“I actually came to speak with you.” His eyes were trained on me as he spoke, acting like Leslie wasn’t standing right in front of him.
“Well, I’ll be here again tomorrow from eight until noon.” I pushed past the little swinging door to enter the lobby, the stranger turning to follow after me.
“Let me take you to lunch.”
I snorted as I balled up my apron, shoving it into my backpack and trying my hardest to avoid all the foot traffic of the business workers dashing down the sidewalk. “You shoving your superiority complex down my throat does not equate to lunch.”
“I really did piss you off, didn’t I?” He caught up to me with ease, matching his long stride with my shorter one. “Let me make it up to you by buying you lunch. It’ll be better than that broke college student microwave ramen I know you’re going to eat when you get back home.”
“Actually, I was going to have a PB&J on some questionably stale bread with some tap water to wash it down.”
A disgusted groan came from him as he imagined it. “I can’t let you eat like that. It’s inhumane. Let me buy you some real food.”
“Does your mind change if I say I have a boyfriend?”
He pursed his lips for a moment before shaking his head. “Nope. I still feel compassion for the culinarily neglected. And I promise to keep the passive-aggressiveness to a minimum.”
I didn’t have to think too hard about it. I was starving and there was no PB&J or microwave ramen at home. My apartment was barren so before my stomach growling could give me away, I answered, “Alright. Fine.”
“Great.”
He steered me around with a hand on the small of my back, leading me across the street toward the strip of businesses. However, when he pulled the door to Pennington-Sinclair Enterprises open, allowing me to enter first, I faltered. “I need to grab a few things from my office first and then we’ll go down to the car garage,” He explained, pushing me toward an elevator.
“I didn’t know you worked here.”
“I told you it was an office job.”
“I guess I just didn’t think you’d work at PSE.” It was then I noticed he’d selected level 40, the highest floor you could go to. “You work at the top?”
He glanced down at his watch with a huff. “Mhm. Upper management usually does, right?”
I cleared my throat, feeling my mouth go a bit dry. Suddenly, I had a feeling that his superiority complex might’ve been warranted. “What did you say your name was again? I don’t think I heard you.”
Pompous green eyes slid to meet mine, a knowing smirk lacing on his lips. “I haven’t told you my name yet.” The elevator gently rattled to a stop with a light ‘ding’, signaling we’d reached the top. “Ro Pennington.”
My stomach dropped.
"Pennington?”
He nodded with a humorous glint reflecting in his eyes. “The Pennington in Pennington-Sinclair Enterprises.”
The doors slid open, revealing the sleek and clean cut lobby of the top floor. “B-But you’re like... 25 years old.”
“So?” He chuckled, placing his hand on my back again and leading me across the shiny marble flooring, navigating the halls with ease.
“So, how do you own all of this at 25? You’re25and a CEO?”
“First off, I’m 24. Second, my father is still the CEO. However, he’s about to kick the bucket so the COO has stepped in to be the interim CEO until my father finally steps down or dies. Whichever happens first couldn’t come soon enough.”
“Oh, I– um-”
“Mr. Pennington!” A cheery feminine voice called out over the rapid pitter-patter of her feet hitting the cold marble.
“What have I said about running in the office, Becca?”
The blond woman came to a skidding stop in front of us, nearly knocking right into me. “Sorry, sir.” She bowed her head, which seemed to annoy the man if his ragged sigh gave any indication. “I have the annual report, balance sheet, and budget you requested.”
She shakily presented them in her hands. “Thank you. You’re dismissed for today.”
“Oh, that’s okay, Mr. Pennington– I don’t want to leave you to handle this-”
“I wasn’t asking.” Without another word, the man pushed the doors open, motioning for me to go first. I obliged happily since his sharp words seemed to have sliced right through Becca. I think she even clutched her heart a little bit.
“Poor girl,” I commented as he closed the door behind us. He didn’t respond as I took a look around at my surroundings.
Either he had good taste in interior design or he hired someone for this. I couldn’t imagine having enough money to waste on making your workspace look like it’s from the cover of Better Homes & Garden. Usually, I was against the brown and black combo because it clashed but I had to admit, the color duo looked good in here. Dark brown paneling on the accent wall and black drapes made the office seem small but at the same time, the stark white marble flooring made the room look big.
“So what do you do exactly if your dad is the CEO?” I spun around to face him. “Can’t imagine they’re giving out offices this nice to just anyone.”
“Nope, just to the COO’s who are acting as interim CEO. Thought we already went through this?”
“You mentioned it. Briefly,” I deadpanned, taking a seat in one of the leather chairs across from his desk. He was shuffling some papers around on his desk, shoving a couple of them into an envelope. “They don’t really teach us business jargon in biochem so you’ll have to excuse my ignorance but what’s a COO?”
“Chief operating officer.”
“Sounds busy.”
“Mhm...” He grabbed a pen before scribbling something down on a piece of paper before shoving it into the envelope, too.
“And you’re doing CEO stuff, too? How do you have time to take me to lunch?”
He chuckled before sealing the envelope closed. “Perks of being first and second in command. I get to make my own hours.” His office chair rolled back as he stood. “Can you take this and drop it off at the front desk? Tell Harmony to put it in the interoffice mail. I have something I need to do before leaving.”
“Okay, sure.” He closed the door behind me, shutting me out into the hallway and leaving me to fend for myself. To be around people who seemed so far above my pay grade was starting to make me insecure. Especially in my little barista uniform. I was severely underdressed. “Are you Harmony?” I asked, stepping up to the redhead at the front desk.
She cocked a brow and used the tip of her pen to tap against her nameplate that was perched on the edge of the desk. ‘Harmony Cunningham, secretary’ was written on the plaque.
“Right. Sorry. Can you put this in the interoffice mail?”
“Per who?” She snarked, blowing a big bubble with the bright pink bubble gum in her mouth.
“Uhm, Pennington?”
She obnoxiously popped her gum. “And it’s going where?”
“Is the destination not on the front?” I picked up the manila envelope again, looking it over, and was about to read off the name when someone beat me to it.
“Arlo, Harmony. I wrote Arlo on the front.” Ro snapped, appearing out of nowhere, startling both of us. “You can sound out four letters, right?”
“Right! Of course, Mr. Pennington. My apologies!”
“You ready?” He asked, hand moving to my back once again. I nodded, allowing him to lead me back to the elevators.
“I have to say, this is way better than microwave ramen,” I goaded playfully, pulling a piece of chicken off my fork with my teeth. “Can’t say it beats a stale PB&J, though.”
“Uh huh,” He snickered with a roll of his eyes. “I doubt you moan like that over a stale PB&J.”
I gasped. “I did not moan.”
“You most definitely did but it’s okay. I won’t judge you. As I said, I have compassion for the culinarily neglected,” He simpered and finished off what was left of his water. “Did you want to get de-”
He was cut off by the shrill sound of my phone buzzing on the tabletop. I flipped my phone over to see an incoming call from Charlie, my boyfriend. Without hesitation, I silenced the phone and placed it back down, trying my damndest to slow my racing heart. “Spam caller. Go on, what were you saying?”
“I was just going to ask if you wanted to-” Once again, cut off by my phone ringing. Of course, it was Charlie. “You can answer it, Poppy.”
“Sorry,” I muttered before grabbing my phone with a shaky hand. “Hey, Charlie-”
“Where are you?”
My mouth went dry. “Just eating lunch. Where are you?”
In moments like these, when I was in mixed company, diverting the conversation was the safest bet.
“I didn’t ask what you were doing. I asked where you were.”
I licked my lips, quickly deciding how I needed to answer this and playing out any scenario that I could think of. “You know, the name of this place slipped my mind but it’s across from that old shopping mall. We should come sometime, it’s really good. Can’t decide if I want dessert, though.”
The shake in my voice was very noticeable so I know Ro caught on. Especially when he gave me an odd look as he shuffled around the food on his plate. “Your location doesn’t say you’re across from that old shopping mall.”
“Well, you know the app doesn’t always immediately update my location. Refresh, I’m sure it’ll show.” Inevitably, my knee started bouncing up and down underneath the table. The anxiety was ruthless even if I wasn’t doing anything wrong.
“Right, okay. So, about last night. I’m really sorry. You know I didn’t mean it.”
I forced a laugh. “I know. I already said it was fine.”
“No, it’s not fine. You didn’t deserve that.”
“Can we talk about this later? I’m out in public right now-”
“Are you with someone?”
Those words cut through me like a hot knife in butter. I hated lying but I also hated feeling anxious about his wavering emotions. He was unpredictable when he was angry.
“Uh, no, no. I’m alone.”
Ro raised a brow at my blatant lie.
“So, show me.”
“Charlie, I’m not doing that-”
“Then you’re lying.”
My face started to heat up. “No, I’m not lying but I’m in public and now’s not the time for you to beg for forgiveness that’s already been given to you,” I snapped harshly, sighing in relief when the call abruptly ended from his end. Seconds later, I powered off my phone and slipped it into my backpack. “I’m sorry about that.”
“No worries.”
I blinked back the burning tears of embarrassment. “What were you saying?”
He smiled warmly, a stark contrast to the arrogant smirks I’d grown accustomed to over the last couple of hours. “I was going to ask if you want to get dessert but now it’s not up for debate. We’re definitely getting some.”
“Oh, that’s okay, Ro. I appreciate it but you’ve already spent so much-”
He groaned and leaned his head into his palm. “Don’t let him ruin your lunch. That’s what he wants.”
The rest of my sentence died on my lips. “What do you mean?”
His eyes danced around my face before he sighed. “I guess it’s not really my place to speak on such matters.” He waved down the waiter before requesting the bill. “Can I ask what happened last night or is that too far?”
The genuine look in his eyes and the tone that lacked any condescension left me with a culmination of mixed emotions. They fucked with my head.
“It was just an argument over something silly. He just gets upset sometimes and takes it too far-” The way his head perked up made me realize my mistake. “Not like that. He doesn’t hit me but he’s got a quick temper and when he gets that angry, he says things he doesn’t mean and then calls later to apologize once he calms down.”
Ro didn’t miss a beat. “And how many times has that cycle gone around?”
I forced a laugh. “Too many. We’ve been together for four years but it used to be way worse. He’s made progress since the first breakup.”
“You’ve already broken up once?”
“Yeah.” I drew invisible shapes in the white tablecloth, focusing on anything besides his judgmental eyes. “We got into a really bad argument that night and he got a little... handsy. It scared me. After his mom came in to hold him back, I went home and ended it with him over the phone. Seven months later, we got together again.”
Ro blew out a breath, catching my attention. My eyes snapped to him and I retracted away from the table. “I’m sorry, you probably don’t want to hear all of this-”
“Why’d you get back together?”
I exhaled a humorless laugh and slouched back into the chair. “Because I’m a push-over that has separation anxiety. I also went through a rough time during the breakup and did things I’m not entirely proud of. I thought if I got back together with him, he’d make me feel better. At the very least, I was hoping for a semblance of normality again.”
“And?” He prompted. “Do you feel normal again?”
I nodded, swallowing down the anxious lump in my throat. “I guess but it’s just been a new learning curve. He knows what I did and he likes to hold it over my head. Says I’m unloyal even though I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Oh,” He hummed in realization. “You slept with someone over the breakup.”
I scoffed. “No, not even close. I made a friend of the opposite sex. He thought I was sleeping with him but I did not.”
Ro shrugged and took the bill from the waiter, returning it to him with his black card on top. “Even so, if you did sleep with the friend, it was during the breakup. Your boyfriend has no right to be upset.”
I laughed humorlessly. “Yeah, that’s what I thought, too. Now, he just thinks I’m this giant whore even though my body count sits at a staggering one. Anyway, long story short, he’s paranoid I’m cheating on him, and if he finds out about this...” I trailed off, trying my hardest to come up with something that wouldn’t paint him in a bad light. “He’ll be upset.”
“Upset that you’re having lunch with me or upset that you lied about it?”
“Both.”
Ro clicked his tongue and relaxed back into the chair, crossing his arms as he pondered something with pursed lips. “Where does he work?”
“Nowhere.”
“How old is he?”
“22.”
“Alright. 22, jobless– what are the chances he’s actually going to bring you here to get dessert?”
“Slim to none,” I chuckled. “He didn’t even get me a birthday gift, there’s no way he’d drop money to bring me here.”
My humor dispersed when I realized Ro wasn’t laughing. “To be fair, I told him if he took a weekend trip with me to the zoo, we could call it even for my birthday and our anniversary.”
“Must really like zoos if you’re willing to cash that in for your birthday and anniversary gift.”
“More a fan of aquariums than I am of zoos but the aquarium was too far. I drive us everywhere and I’m not a fan of being on the interstate. So, the zoo was perfect.”
“Poppy, how old are you?”
I huffed once I realized where this was going. “I know, I’m too old to enjoy that kind of stuff and I should know how to drive on the interstate but I-”
“That’s not what I mean. This might seem... presumptuous of me but don’t you want more? I mean, you’re what? 23? 24? Don’t you want something more mature out of a relationship? You accepted the bare minimum and had to bargain for your birthday and anniversary.”
“Alright, Mr. Materialistic,” I scoffed.
He put his hand up, making me fall silent. “Don’t say I’m materialistic. I wasn’t insinuating you needed an extravagant gift. Effort is free, you know.”
I smiled hearing that familiar phrase. “You sound like my friend.”
“Do I?”
I nodded. “She’s not a fan of him either.”
My mind strayed to the memory of Juniper telling me, in horrifying detail, the ways she’d make him regret hurting me if he ever did it again. Let’s just say, that after that conversation, my relationship issues have stayed between Charlie and I.
Until right now.
“Why didn’t you just tell Charlie you were with her then?”
“She’s out of state right now for college so he’d know I was lying. Then he’d be mad if I didn’t tell him about having lunch with her beforehand.”
“Have to schedule time off with him or something?”
“Something like that. She’s actually coming back for the weekend and we’re going out for dinner.” The thought brought a small smile to my face.
The waiter returned with Ro’s card then, handing it over with a slight bow. “Actually, could I put in a to-go order?”
When he placed the order for two desserts, I tried to protest but once again, he shut me down. To say I was a bit disgruntled about the dessert that was forced into my hands would be a bit of a lie. It looked really good and it tasted just the same.
“What did you say this was?” I practically drooled as I spooned more of the dessert into my mouth, disregarding the odd looks from the people we walked past on the sidewalk.
“Honey panna cotta with candied strawberries.” He glanced down at me while biting back a smile as he ate his own.
“What did you get?”
“Caramel soaked almond cake. Want to try it?” He asked, presenting a chunk of it on his fork in front of me. I eyed it with hesitation. Not because I didn’t want to try it, I most definitely did, but because I didn’t want to cross a line. As if he could read my thoughts, he jumped in to placate me. “I’m only offering because I want to try yours.”
He inched the fork just a bit closer, urging me to take a bite and once my sweet tooth kicked in, I did.
“Fuck, yours is good, too,” I moaned, swallowing the bite. “We should trade.”
“Fuck no. Caramel cake is my favorite. Eat your panna cotta, greedy,” He taunted, pulling his fork away from me. “What are you doing for the rest of the day?”
“Well, I’ve got classes from three to seven and then homework.”
“Ugh, that sounds like it blows. You should be enjoying your twenties, not slaving away at school.”
“That’s easy for you to say. You’re sitting with a senior title, two of them, and you’re the same age as me. Did you even go to college?”
“Nope but I have college friends, therefore I’m a college student by proxy. Not that I really get to utilize all the college student perks– they’re just as busy as you this year.”
“College student perks? And what would those be? Besides exhaustion, depression, and crippling anxiety?”
“The parties, obviously. But, like I said, they’re always busy so the only parties I attend are work parties.”
“Don’t worry. You’re not missing much at a college party. I’m sure the work parties are way better.” As we neared his car, he pulled out his keys to unlock it.
“Well, let’s put your theory to the test. There’s a work party this weekend. You should come.”
The thrumming of my heart in my chest was unsettling. Usually when I felt that, it wasn’t a good thing. However, this felt different. How long had it been since this sensation was in relation to something good?
“But Juniper is coming into town this weekend-”
“Bring her, too.”
The drive back to campus was a quiet one. My mind was still racing, thinking of every different scenario that could occur if I decided to go to the party. How would Charlie react? Would he get pissed? Or sad? Should I even tell him in the first place?
I ran through as many as I could think of and was so caught up in my head that I didn’t realize when Ro parked the car in the campus parking lot.
“About that party, I don’t know if I’ll be able to make it. Juniper and... Charlie, I don’t know-”
“That’s okay.” He brushed me off and reached over to flip open his glove compartment. He then presented to me, between his pointer and middle finger, a small white card. “When you find out, text me and let me know.”
“S-Sure, okay.” I forced a laugh and gathered my backpack from the floor of his car. “Uhm, thank you for lunch.”
“Just paying you back for being a dick this morning.”
My eyes widened as I recounted this morning. “Oh, yeah. You were a dick this morning. The food almost made me forget.”
He hummed out a laugh. “Guess I’ll have to switch up my tactics, think of something else that’ll make you forget.”
“Don’t hold your breath, then. I won’t forget easily next time,” I mused as I stepped out of his car, offering him a subtle wave and moving toward my next lecture hall with a newfound warm thrum in my chest.
I know I can just put this in the Chapter Notes feature, but I'm going to be so real with all of you, I hate using that. I'd rather just put the ending notes at the end of the chapter. Plus, sometimes I have a lot to say (I like to yap, and kudos to you for getting through this whole thing <3) and sometimes I have images I want to show you all. I hope that's okay with you <3
Anyway, ending notes for this one:
just a bit of vocab in case you’re unfamiliar with the terms-- I know I was until I did research for this book
--I know nothing of business so bear with me :)
CEO- Chief Executive Officer
COO- Chief Operating Officer
CFO- Chief Financial Officer
