Invisible String | Lovertation

December 29

I stand in front of the mirror, arms crossed, staring at myself like my reflection might start talking back. My hair looks fine. My skin looks fine. My eyes—fuck, my eyes look tired. I blink hard, like that'll change anything.

I pull on a cropped hoodie, adjusting the hem. Then I stop. Too much?

I roll my eyes at myself. Since when do I care?

I rip the hoodie off and throw it onto my bed. Then I grab a different one—one that covers more, one that makes me feel like me—but the second I pull it on, I hate it. It's too bulky. Too closed off.

I yank it off and put the cropped one back on.

I'm being fucking ridiculous.

I grab my phone off my nightstand and check our messages again, even though I already know what they say.

Lover: Wanna meet up? Just to talk.
Me: Yeah. Where?
Lover: Park?
Me: Fine. When?
Lover: Whenever you're ready.
Me: Be there soon.

I hesitate, staring at the screen. Whenever I'm ready. That's not a real time. It's a test.

She's waiting on me.

I rub my hands together, letting out a slow breath. Why does this feel so... big? We've talked a million times before. This is nothing. It's not like she's asking me to confess my deepest fucking feelings or anything. It's just a conversation.

So why does my heart feel like it's trying to crawl up my throat?

I shake my head, grab my keys, and head out before I can overthink this any more than I already have.

She's already there when I pull up. Sitting on the bench, staring at her phone, all relaxed like this isn't the biggest fucking part of my day.

Then she looks up, sees me, and smiles.

I feel that smile in my chest.

"Hey," she says, tilting her head slightly.

"Hey," I mutter, shoving my hands into my pockets as I sit down next to her. Our knees brush, and I don't move away. Neither does she.

"You're late," Lover teases, glancing at me with this stupid little smirk.

I raise an eyebrow. "You said 'whenever I'm ready.' I decided I was ready now. You got a problem with that?"

Her smirk deepens. "No, but I think you were standing in front of your mirror for ten minutes trying to decide what to wear."

I scoff. "You think I give a shit about what I wear?"

She hums, tilting her head. "I think you do when you're meeting up with me."

My stomach does this weird thing, but I ignore it. "You have a real fucking ego problem."

"And yet, you're here."

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, well. Maybe I just like the park."

She laughs, leaning back against the bench. "Right. You're obsessed with nature. You love the trees."

I glance at her out of the corner of my eye. She's still smirking, like she knows exactly what she's doing.

So I decide to push back.

"You're staring," I point out.

She doesn't flinch. "Maybe I like the view."

I blink. My mouth opens slightly, then closes. I was not expecting her to say that.