Page 36 of Unless It's You
“Stella was so hot with those high heels and aloof attitude. I was never sure she really liked me, you know? And now, well, I guess she didn’t.” He lets out a chuckle, but hearing him talk about her like this makes me squirm.
I was right to avoid them when they were dating. There’s no way I would’ve been able to handle it.
And for all his talk now, Ben didn’t appreciate her. There was that one night when he left her drunk in the pub and went clubbing with the rest of the group they were with. I got her home safe. She leaned against my shoulder in the Uber and drunkenly told me she never should’ve kissed me, then went on to recap that whole night we spent together in excruciating detail.
As if I’d forgotten any of it.
And when we got to her flat, she asked me to stay with her.
I said no, of course. But I would never have left her alone at that pub, if she’d been mine. Which she wasn’t. She isn’t.
I need to change the subject.
“I saw Helen back home on Friday.”
“Did you now?” Ben raises his eyebrows. “You didn’t tell me that when we texted.”
“It was a last-minute decision.”
“Did you spend the night with her?” He leans forward with interest.
“Nah. Just hung out for a bit. Talked to Suzanne about Mum.”
“Lost opportunity. Helen’s always wanted you.”
“Except when she wanted you.” Ben’s got so many women who want him, he literally forgets about that time when I was hooking up with Helen and then she confessed her love for him instead.
“Oh, yeah, there was that.” Ben laughs, and I join in, even though it’s not really funny. “So, nothing happening there?”
I shrug. “I don’t know, probably not.” I do know. There’s nothing between me and Helen.
But between me and Stella?
Fuck if I know what’s going on there.
What I do know is that I told her about my mum passing away. I told her about Mum’s flat, which isn’t something I’ve shared with another person. And right now, my fingers are itching to text her. See how she is. See her.
But I shouldn’t do it.
15
STELLA
I’m finally home, on my couch with a glass of fresh red wine, ready to deal with bucket list item number five:Find the One that Got Away.
I detest social media and do everything I can to avoid it, but because I work in advertising, I need to be on all the hellish platforms occasionally to check out what’s trending with brands and advertising.
And tonight, to investigate what my ex-boyfriend’s been up to.
After going through my personal email inbox and deleting a ton of messages, including a bunch of spam and one from an MBA classmate soliciting funding for his business expansion, I open Facebook on my phone and click through to Ben’s page.
He’s got the same profile picture from when we were dating—him standing on the top of a snowy mountain in Austria, reflective sunglasses on, leaning on his ski poles, a giant, white-toothed grin on his face. My finger hovers over the send message button, but I hesitate. I’m not quite ready yet.
Scrolling down to his recent posts, I stop at the top one, which is a month-old happy birthday message to his best friend.
Ethan Fraser.
Don’t click on Ethan’s profile. Don’t click. Whatever you do, you psychopath, don’t do that. Seriously. It would be invasive and inappropriate and?—
