Here's to Us(What If It's Us #2)(7)

“Ten weeks.”

“Fine, ten weeks. But it’ll go by so fast, I promise. We won’t even have time to miss each other.”

He smiles sadly. “I kind of miss you already.”

I look up at him, so startled I lose my breath for a second. I kind of miss you already.

I mean, I know Mikey’s into me. I’ve never doubted that. But he’s not usually quite so direct about it.

“Me too. But at least I get you back in two weeks.” I nudge him sideways. “And I’m taking you to every single one of my favorite places. Central Park, Times Square, Levain Bakery, you name it.”

Mikey’s brow furrows.

I narrow my eyes. “What?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You made an eyebrow face.”

Mikey disentangles our hands. “It’s just . . .” He pauses, rubbing the back of his neck. “Did you go to those places with Ben?”

“Oh. Well, yeah.” I feel suddenly flustered. “But that was two years ago. Ben and I haven’t even talked in ages. Since February.”

Mikey shrugs like he doesn’t quite believe me.

But it’s true. It’s been months since Ben and I have talked or even texted. I even tried FaceTiming him on his birthday in April, but he didn’t pick up. He didn’t even return the text I sent later.

Mikey’s looking at me now with his basset-hound eyes. “Are you going to see him?”

“You mean Ben?”

“You’ll be in the same city.”

“Mikey, seriously. I haven’t talked to him since February. He doesn’t even know I’m coming.”

“I think he knows.”

There’s something about the way Mikey says it.

“What do you mean?”

The song switches again. “I Don’t Need Your Love.” I swear I can hear Mikey’s heartbeat change tempo. He leans sideways, gropes around for my phone, and passes it to me. The Instagram notification pops up the moment I tap the screen.

@ben-jamin liked your photo.



It’s the first time Ben’s liked one of my photos in months.

My heart leaps into my throat. I’ve been trying not to let the Instagram thing bother me. It’s normal for people to drift, right? Especially when it’s your ex-boyfriend.

I just didn’t think it would happen to us. To Ben and me. I kind of thought we were indestructible.

And in the beginning, we were.

I’ll never forget that first week back home after leaving New York. Ben and I talked every single night until our phone batteries died. And for the rest of senior year, we never went more than a day without texting. I used to walk around the house on FaceTime so often, my parents started shouting, “Hi, Ben,” whenever they saw my phone. Then sometimes Diego and Isabel would shout back, and the four of them would be off and running with some side conversation. Ben and I complained about it constantly, but I think we both secretly loved that our parents were lowkey obsessed with each other.

I mean, I liked to think Ben and I were lowkey obsessed with each other, too.

And I thought college would be the same. Or better. Definitely better, because at least I wouldn’t have to deal with my mom’s knowing looks every time I stepped out of my bedroom. For the record, that’s a barrel of laughs: trying not to be in love with your ex-boyfriend when he rants adorably about story structure over FaceTime and having your parents see right through every single denial. All the boyfriend-related parental teasing without the actual boyfriend.

So. Privacy was good. And Wesleyan’s proximity to New York was even better. Just over three hours by train—two if I left my car at Bubbe’s house and took the train from New Haven. It’s not that I expected our relationship to pick right up where we left off—not necessarily. But Ben seemed really happy I was moving closer. He brought it up constantly for months.

Of course, once I was actually in Connecticut, things got weird really fast.

We still talked all the time, and Ben was always saying he missed me. Or I’d wake up to rambling remember when texts. But when I mentioned train schedules, he’d change the subject so fast it made my head spin.

Once he sent me a screenshot of my own Instagram selfie, followed by a single heart-eye emoji. Which led to two hours on FaceTime with Ethan and Jessie, trying to pinpoint the most casual-yet-effective way to say, Um, I think you’re joke-flirting, but in case you’re also real-flirting, might I remind you that I have a single dorm room.

It was bewildering and infuriating, and I was a Ben-addled mess all over again. I thought about blocking his number. I thought about showing up on his doorstep. I was surrounded by cute boys with loud opinions who liked kissing, so I tried that. But I always ended up alone in my dorm room, poring over Ben’s texts.

Until Mikey.

@ben-jamin liked your photo.



I can’t stop staring at the notification. Of course, it doesn’t say which photo he liked. Could have been my packing-day post, sure. But it could have also been the Stacey Abrams quote graphic I reposted last night, or Sunday’s throwback photo for Mother’s Day, or anything, really. I want to click into the app so badly my fingers are twitching, but I can’t do that in front of Mikey.

That little heart icon.

I wish I knew what it meant.