I need to help her. Period.
I really fucking like Ariel. I want the world for her. I want the best for her.
Whatever that means.
"Okay. Should I get my laptop?" She motions to her backpack.
"I'll get mine." I stand and move into the bedroom. It's dark. Quiet. Cool.
The space that's all mine. That was all mine until she whirled into my life.
Fuck, I really like having her in my life. I love making her laugh or smile or groan.
I love when she falls asleep on my shoulder—
Or melts into my chest.
Or gushes over the food I made.
I don't know what the fuck I'm doing here. There are lines. I'm supposed to keep them firm. So neither one of us gets hurt.
So she doesn't get hurt.
But now…
I find my laptop on my desk. Bring it to the table.
Ariel scoots closer. She brings her half-finished dinner. Slurps noodles. "Here goes nothing."
I nod and pull up her ex's Facebook.
It's quiet. A few posts about medicine that go over my head. A few pictures of his family.
Ariel offers the screen every ounce of her attention. She does everything like that. At one hundred percent.
Her eyes light up at the sight of his parents.
They turn down when she gets to an old picture, of the two of them.
It's older, a Fourth of July barbecue, but it's perfect. They're dressed in matching red, white, and blue outfits. Grilling in his parents' backyard. Happy.
Both of them are happy.
Fuck, the smile on her face does something to me. Makes me warm in places that are usually cold.
She nods. "He's not seeing anyone else yet." She bites her lip. "I thought… I thought he liked his boss."
"Maybe it's a crush."
"Maybe."
"You've never had a crush on another guy?"
"Well… I guess. But I never…" Her eyes meet mine. Her expression gets sheepish. "I… let's see the Instagram."
I nodsureand pull it up.
She scrolls backward through the posts. Dinners and coffees. Then dinners and coworkers. Dinners and family. (The guy likes his food).