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The question lingers in Mateo's mind like an unsolved equation: How many times can a boyfriend mess up before their partner calls it quits?
The 'I love you' debacle flashes through Mateo's thoughts as he contemplates Lovette's relationship with Chris. Despite Lovette narrating the incident to him and Imani in a way that sounded like a scene from a romcom, he expected it to be the breaking point. If he were in Chris's shoes, he would have uttered those words first, wouldn't have fled. Yet, against the odds, Lovette and Chris's bond appeared to endure. That is, until Lovette found comfort in his arms, tears staining the familiar backdrop of a skating rink.
A small part of Mateo secretly appreciated the intimacy of holding her, even in her vulnerable state. He yearned to be her pillar of support. Scratch that—he was her support. Chris, on the other hand, was noticeably absent. Witnessing Lovette break down like this over a guy was a new experience. Each tear seemed to confess the weight of the emotional burden she carried. Yet, she pulled away from him as if scorched, and the incident remained unspoken between them.
Perched on her porch steps, the chilly October breeze made them shiver, but Mateo welcomed it—he was with Lovette, after all. He managed to elicit a genuine laugh from her, and the way she covered her mouth to stifle the sound quickened his heartbeat. A fleeting thought crosses his mind: maybe, just maybe, she feels something more as well.
"How are things with Chris?" he ventures once her laughter subsides.
This time, Lovette doesn't shy away from the question; her gaze holds steady on his.
"They're okay," she replies, offering little insight.
Okay? He had witnessed her in tears.
There's a beat of silence before she cautiously adds, "I think."
He tries not to revel in her uncertainty.
"You think?" Mateo probes, his eyes studying her expression.
Lovette shrugs, "Long distance is hard."
Her statement hangs in the air, a sparse response that leaves much to be desired. It falls short of satisfying Mateo's curiosity, and he can't help but press for more.
Mateo leans back, a contemplative look on his face, the porch's wooden steps cool beneath him. "Long distance," he muses, echoing her words, "I think distance means little when someone means a lot to you. But it is hard."
Lovette nods, the faintest furrow in her brow revealing the strain beneath the surface. "Yeah, it is. Lately, it's been difficult..."
"Lately?" Mateo prompts gently, sensing there's more left unsaid.
