Dear Heart, I Hate You

“Looks like you were about to send someone flowers.”

“I wasn’t,” I lied.

Lucas leaned against my cubicle wall and crossed his arms over his chest. “I think you were.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Not likely,” he said with a huff.

“Did you want something?”

“I did, but now I can’t remember. Your mental vacation to la-la land with a certain blonde distracted me.” He walked over to my desk, pushed a folder out of the way, and sat in the space he’d just cleared.

“I can’t stop thinking about her, okay,” I admitted, feeling defeated somehow, as if I’d lost some sort of important internal battle. I wanted him to tell me that I was crazy to be hung up on a girl I’d just met, but I knew he wouldn’t.

“That’s what happens when you actually like a girl,” he said, as if this were news to me.

Leaning back in my chair, I scoffed at him. “I don’t want to like the girl. She lives three thousand miles away. It’s beyond unrealistic.”

“Sorry to break it to you, bro, but your heart doesn’t care about reality or miles. Cal,” he said, speaking slowly in a tone one might use with a small child, “a heart is this thing that lives right here.” He pointed to his chest. “That’s where most people think they feel everything related to love. Now, love is—”

“Shut up,” I growled out, and he laughed hard as he tried to talk through his laughter to continue teasing me. “Come closer so I can hit you.” I swung at him but he was just out of reach, and I almost fell out of my chair.

Laughing, Lucas pointed at me. “That’s a hate crime.”

“You’re a hate crime.”

“That’s probably also a hate crime.”

Rolling my eyes, I groaned before I tilted my head back and rubbed my temples. “You’re an idiot.”

“I knew I should have bet you money that this would happen,” he said, grinning like some all-knowing guru. “I could be a rich man right now.”

“Please shut up.”

“Cal, for once in your life, forget about your rules and your stupid timeline, and be flexible.”

My fingers still pressed to my temples, I glared at him. “You’re reading way too much into this.”

“I don’t think I am.”

“We had fun together. We enjoyed each other’s company. That’s it.” I wasn’t sure who I was trying to convince, but Lucas’s expression told me that he didn’t believe a word I said.

He shrugged before saying something that surprised me. “Maybe you’re right.”

I leaned toward him, cupping my hand to my ear. “I’m sorry, what? Could you repeat that?”

“I said maybe you’re right. Maybe it was so great with Jules because she doesn’t live here. Maybe you were just caught up in the moment.”

“That’s it! I’m acting all crazy because I thought it was perfect, but it only seemed that way because Jules doesn’t live here. You, my friend,” I said as I pointed at him, “are a genius. I probably won’t even miss her in a week.”

As I was speaking, my cell phone vibrated on my desk, and I reached for it to find a text from Jules on the screen.

Jules: Good morning, or good afternoon, in your case. Time differences are weird. Hope you have a great day. I’m s

howing a $3-million house today to some new clients. Wish me luck! : )

Hell. One text message from her and all my thoughts flew out the window.