He was the nicest guy she’d met in a long while- it wasn’t about false flattery with him. He was genuine. He understood. And then it occurred to her that maybe he understood too well. Maybe he knew more than any of the other ones ever had before.
And she was right. Because that one night, after he thought she was his, they went out for drinks. And he saw her talking with another guy. He was the best listener she’d met in a while. And he was funny. And it wasn’t about false flattery with him. He didn’t understand quite the same way- but maybe that was for the best. And then he left the bar for a minute to explain to his girlfriend that he’d be late that night. And he looked at her, and she returned his look. She wasn’t sure what it was asking of her. Until she felt his hand on her leg. And then she understood. And she turned away. But he’d found the answer to his silent question.
“So he’s tonight’s conquest.”
And she swallowed her tears and drew lines in the little beads of sweat on the glass of beer in front of her. Because only she was allowed to look at them like that. Only she was allowed to think about them like that. Only she was allowed to see herself in that light.
But he had figured it out. He understood. And that terrified her.