I stepped into the queue behind a loud, obnoxious family. You tried to enter the wrong way, caught my eye, and we laughed together. "Feel free to go ahead of me," I laughed. You shrugged, embarrassed but laughing at yourself. You got in line behind me and I tried not to be obvious as I turned to look at you multiple times. You caught me staring more than once. I complimented your shirt. You held my gaze. They called me to the counter, and I reluctantly turned away from you. I purchase my items, a blazer and a fuzzy blue blanket. The other line was moving slow, so you were called up behind me. I put my card and receipt away slowly, trying to decide if I should say something. You purchased one item- a power strip? A pair of headphones? - and walked out of the store behind me. I had to make a move now. "You're really cute, you know." I almost stall and it comes out so awkward to my own ears. You pause, maybe in shock. "What?" No way am I repeating that. I smile, you smile. Your eyes are shy when you reply, "I have a girlfriend." I grimace inside, smile brighter outside. "I have a boyfriend. I was...just making an observation." You begin to walk away, chuckle, turn back. "I mean...we can be friends." I dance inside, smirk outside. "Friends. Of course." I take the bait. You pause, I take the bait. "Let's have a drink, Friend." I gesture to a nearby big box coffee shop, you shrug and say, "sure." Your eyes shine, I notice and can't think of anything else. You unlock your car door- a white hatchback- and throw your purchase in the backseat. I do the same- funny how we parked so close to each other. We walk to the coffee shop, you hold the door for me. I forget my other obligations for the day, and hope you're doing the same. You order a macchiato, same as me. I order lemon pound cake, you say "me too!" You get the bill, I find a table. We sit. Too close. We scoot away from each other and begin talking. We scoot closer without realizing it. You caress your coffee cup and I'm jealous of the paper sleeve that gets to enjoy your gentle fingers. We both love comic books. Loose leaf tea. Paperback books. You play video games, I prefer crosswords. You binge watch the same show over and over, I listen to one song on repeat until I know all the words. My taste in music is horrible. You love reality tv. We scoot closer. Your mom died early. My mom and I don't get along. Your dad is your best friend. My dad is dying of cancer. You're working on a Master's degree, I just finished mine. We scoot closer. Your cup is empty, so is mine. I finish my pound cake and yours. "We should probably go," you say reluctantly. Surprisingly, it's grown dark outside. "Not yet," I reply, hating how whiny I sound. Loving how widely you grin. "Flip a coin," you say. "Heads, my place. Tails, yours." I falter. My boyfriend. You see the look on my face. "Heads it is," you say, and hold out a hand. I take it. We walk to your car, you open the passenger side door. There's a girl's shoe in the backseat. I ignore it. You change the radio station to cheesy pop, I grin and sing along. You sing along too, making up the words. Your eyes crinkle when you look at me. My heart is thrumming. Your apartment complex is gated, I peep over your shoulder as you enter the code. Four sevens. The gate rises, my heartbeat increases. You live on the third floor, same as me. We walk in, the lights are off. Lips meet, no time to grope for switches. Clothes off, more laughing. Skin to skin. Heartbeat to heartbeat. We cuddle after. You like being the big spoon. Your knee between mine, your breath on the nape of my neck. Lights come on. Shit. Screaming, crying, throwing things. Scrambling to dress, you put a hand on my shoulder. "Stay here," you command, and march her out the door. Muffled shouts. Muffled crying. Footsteps running down the stairs. You come back, face red. Scratches on your cheek. Eyes downcast. "It was time," you say. "It's been bad for a while." I'm angry at myself. Neither of us should be here. I cry. You cry. "I have to go," I say, picking up articles of clothing. Feeing awful, I can't look at you. You drive me back to my car. "Please," you say. "No," I say. "Yes," you demand. I cave. Write my number on your palm. Drive away, crying again. You text immediately. Come back to me. End it. You should be with me. I ignore it all until IT WAS MEANT TO BE. I turn the car around. Make a call, break a heart. Climb the stairs to your place. You open the door, grab my hands, pull me in. Lips find each other. Plans are made to replace the broken ones. You make a pot of coffee. We sit on your couch, searching for words. "So," I begin, "what'd you get at the store today?"