“Can we pretend we’re broken up?” you ask.
He doesn’t even look up from his phone. You scoot across the duct-taped seat of a curve-cornered dining booth inside a red and green American restaurant, resting your chin on his flannel-covered shoulder.
“Babe?” you whisper.
“Can we pretend we’re broken up?”
His eyes finish their task—a YouTube video, a virtual game, you don’t know or care—and he turns slightly. “What? Why?”
“Because you like me best when we’re broken up.”
You can see it all in his face. The shock, the denial, the admission, the guilt. The furrowed brow inspecting why. You’d like to know why, too. All you know is that he wants you most when he can’t have you. When you’re broken up is when you feel the most wanted.