For the “You just had to be there” prompt.
“You just had to be there, didn’t you? You just couldn’t stay away. I knew it! I knew I couldn’t –“
“What? But Lizzie, didn’t you want me to–?”
“No!” Lizzie shoved the supermarket bouquet back at his chest. Chuck stepped back reluctantly and cradled the rejected offering. “That’s why we aren’t together anymore, because I don’t want you!”
“Wow, that’s low, Lizzie. That’s as bad as not texting me on my birthday.”
“That’s life, Chuck. Now please, can we move on – could you please move on?”
“But I thought . . . but that story you wrote, I thought that was–”
“For you?” Lizzie gasped. She knew he was going to think that. She knew allowing him to see that part of her life – five months after-the-fact – was not a good idea. But how was she supposed to know he’d take an interest? He hadn’t taken an interest in the four years they were together.
She glared at Chuck and willed him away from her. He didn’t get the hint. He just stood there, looking at her, hopeful, expectant, almost as though she owed him something just because he’d shown up.
That was the last time she posted about her volunteer work. A wine-tasting fundraiser was not the place she wanted to diffuse this dead lovers’ spat. At least he waited until the end of her shift to show his moon-eyed face.
“That wasn’t an invitation for you to come back into my life, Chuck.”
“I’m sorry you feel this way, Lizzie.” The bouquet drooped. “I thought we were friends.”
Lizzie tried to choke down her laugh. Laughing in his face was not nice.
“We’re not friends, Chuck – we aren’t even very good acquaintances.” Lizzie started to turn away. He had to get the hint, didn’t he? Well, probably not. He’d shown up, after all.
“Chuck,” she tried again, “you have to knock it off. We aren’t friends – I didn’t text you on your birthday because I forgot. It isn’t because I feel any way about you, it’s because I’m over it. You need to be over it too.”
For the longest time he just stood there. Lizzie waited, biting her lip, not willing to say anything more. He searched her face. Not finding what he was looking for, he turned.
Lizzie sighed, relieved. She watched the flowers slip from his hands and scatter on the pavement.
“Good bye,” she whispered. “Thank you.”