Warner Park

✨ Chapter Seven | The Explosive Surprise

— Andrew —

Ted and I were out to lunch... his idea.

I still hadn't managed to end things with him since the camping trip, despite multiple attempts.

That trip had been about two weeks ago, and I'd tried three separate times to work up the courage to break it off. Every time, I chickened out. I'd never been the one to end a relationship before. I was always the one who got dumped. This was uncharted territory, and I had no idea what I was doing. Was it okay to do this right before Christmas? Did Ted even celebrate Christmas?

I kept waiting for the "right" moment, but I was starting to realize that moment wasn't coming.

Ted had been talking at me nonstop for the entire hour we'd been here. Not talking to me, at me. My mind drifted as I picked at my lunch, barely tuning in. Was this how my exes felt before breaking up with me? The thought was humbling.

I thought back to my first boyfriend, Brian, the first friend I ever came out to in high school. I could still remember the way his long arms felt wrapped around my back, his slightly sweaty basketball jersey pressing against my cheek. Brian had been a lot of firsts for me.

I pushed the memory aside before it could get too vivid.

Meanwhile, Ted kept going, uninterrupted.

I knew he'd brought me here because I'd told him this was my favorite lunch spot a few weeks ago. He was capable of thoughtful gestures like that, which made this even harder. I appreciated some things about him... the way his light brown hair stopped just above his full, dark eyebrows, the strong, athletic shape of his shoulders. God, his shoulders.

But the truth was, most of what I appreciated about Ted was purely physical.

"So, that was basically the entire weekend in a nutshell," he said, pausing to take a sip of his soda. "I might get a new wetsuit on Wednesday. Are you even listening to me?"

I blinked, jolted out of my thoughts. "I am. You're getting a new wetsuit on Wednesday."

"You're not listening," Ted snapped, slamming his hand on the table hard enough to rattle my iced tea.

I flinched, gripping the edge of the table.

"Honestly, you're a really bad listener," he continued.

"I'm sorry," I said, trying to keep my voice even. "I did zone out for a second, but that doesn't mean I wasn't listening, Ted."

"I don't even know why I bother sharing anything with you," he said, crossing his arms. "You make me feel like everything I say is pointless."

That was dramatic, even for Ted. I rolled my eyes before I could stop myself, and a faint smile tugged at my lips.

"Don't roll your eyes like that," he said sharply. "You know I hate it. Quit doing it."

Ted could be such a big kid sometimes.

Lately, our age difference had been glaringly obvious. He was twenty-two, and I didn't think that would be an issue at first, but it was becoming clear how much it influenced our communication. Or lack thereof.

"Well, I can't get a word in, Ted. Of course I zoned out. You always do this. You keep going on and on about yourself--"

Before I could finish, my phone pinged on the table next to my hand.