“But what?”
I locked eyes with him. “He ghosted.”
Alex immediately broke my gaze and shoved his baguette in his mouth, biting off a giant chunk of bread and meat.
“Ghosting,” I continued, picking at a cilantro leaf poking out of the side of my sandwich. “I’ve never really understood it.”
“What’s to understand?” he said, still chewing. “Sometimes things don’t work out between people. If one person wants to leave before things get too serious, why shouldn’t they?”
“It’s fine to want to break up with someone. But disappearing into thin air and cutting off all communication without an explanation is really fucked up.”
“Yeah, but then you don’t have to deal with some long, uncomfortable conversation. It’s just easier for everyone involved.”
“Sure, it’s easy. It’s also cowardly.”
He flinched. “I think that’s a little harsh.”
“No. What’s harsh is completely abandoning someone after you’ve led them on and made them believe you could really care about them. At least have the common courtesy to say goodbye. To give them some closure. Otherwise, the other person is always left wondering, ‘What’s wrong with me?’”
My bottom lip started to tremble and I stilled it with my fingers. When it came to dating, I always liked to pretend I could play it cool. If a guy ghosted or stood me up or otherwise hurt me, I said it was his own loss. He was a jerk, a loser, and I deserved better, so there was no point in wasting my tears.
In reality, though, it was hard not to think that there was something inherently unlovable about me. That guys kept leaving because I was chasing them away. That I’d never find anyone who would love me the way I wanted to be loved. Alex included.
“Mel.” He leaned toward me, arm outstretched. His thumb caressed my cheek and I looked into his big brown eyes. “I would never do that you. I told you, I’m in this a hundred percent. You and me—this is serious.”
And though I wanted to believe every word that dripped from his beautiful lips, I couldn’t help but wonder: How many women had heard that exact same line?
Of course, I didn’t say that. I just nodded, then peeled back the wrapper on my bánh mì and ate my lunch.
After we finished eating, we walked back to the office, and I tried not to wallow in hopelessness. Instead, I grabbed Alex’s hand, squeezing it tight, reminding him that I was still there. He responded by pulling me close, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and nuzzling my neck. When we stopped on the corner of Wall Street to wait for the light to change, he leaned down and kissed me. It was so slow and sensual and seductive, I almost forgot we were standing in the bustle of midday foot traffic.
Maybe I was simply being paranoid. Maybe it was all going to be fine.
“Ow!”
Alex jerked away and clenched his biceps, his face contorting in pain.
“Are you okay?” I asked, then quickly saw the source of his anguish: Greg, walking backward through the crosswalk with a smirk on his face. He’d punched Alex in the arm as he passed by. Because that’s a fun thing to do to your coworkers, I guess.
“I’m fine,” he said, rubbing his arm. “I just wasn’t expecting it.”
As Greg disappeared into the crowd across the street, I could hear him yell, “Rico!”
“What is his problem?”
“He’s a dick,” Alex mumbled, then grabbed my hand and led me across the street.
We parted ways in the elevator bank with a promise to text each other later. After that, my afternoon went by much the same way my morning had: tedious tasks, performed with a fake smile. Since I’d adjusted my attitude and stopped slacking off, Bob stayed off my back. As long as I got my work done and no one complained, he didn’t have a reason to bother me.
Which gave me plenty of time to check in on JerkAlert. Ever since I saw those troublesome performance stats yesterday, I’d been logging in regularly to make sure everything ran without a hitch. I was still making minor tweaks to the code here and there to improve stability, and so far, I’d kept everything under control.
At 5:15, I changed into my gym clothes and headed uptown to the Krav Maga Institute. The whole subway ride, I was a bundle of nerves, worried what was going to happen when I saw Lia. We’d never fought like this before. Would she still be mad at me? Would she even show up?
My concerns were put to rest as soon as I walked into the gym, though. Lia was early as usual, sitting cross-legged on the edge of the bright red mat. When she saw me, she waved, a sad little half smile on her face, and instantly, I knew she felt as sorry as I did about everything that went down last night.
“I’m sorry,” she said, the moment I approached.
“No, I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong. I jumped down your throat and attacked you for no reason.”
“It’s fine. You were going through an unbelievably horrible thing.”
“That’s not an excuse.”
“But it’s really okay. Water under the bridge. All right?”
She nodded. “All right.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Shitty.”
“Well, I’m happy you came today. I wasn’t sure if you would.”
“I have to get on with my life. What better way to do that than by kicking a grown man’s ass?”
As if on cue, a stocky guy strolled into the gym in his bare feet, slowly rubbing his palms together. He wore this smug grin, like he owned the place. Which he probably did, but he didn’t have to be so cocky about it.
“Ladies, ladies, ladies.” His accent was sexy, I’ll give him that. “My name is Tal. I’ll be your instructor today. Welcome to Krav Maga self-defense course.”
About a dozen women sat in a semicircle on the mat. He studied our faces, making individual eye contact with each one of us. “It’s hard being a woman,” he said. “Men are disgusting. They prey on you, night and day. At any moment, you can be a victim, even in the middle of a crowded subway. Remember that thing going around the internet last week? The dick in the dark?”
Oh, God.
“If that woman from the video knew Krav Maga, she could’ve taken him out, no problem.”
I begged to differ. There was no way I could’ve whipped out elaborately choreographed self-defense moves on that train. We were packed in like sardines. I could barely even turn my head. While Tal was undoubtedly skilled in hand-to-hand combat, he’d clearly never been held hostage by an unwanted penis on a rush-hour A train.