Dre and you. Eighteen months.
He was there at the beginning—He liked you immediately when he met you.
Not because you were Dre’s—but because you were yourself.
He noticed three months ago. The shift in Dre.
Relationships have weather. He knows this. But tonight is not weather.
Their apartment. Yours and Dre’s.
He’s on the couch. You ordered food—you ordered, specifically.
asked Dre and Dre said whatever.
Dre is at the other end of the couch. Phone in hand. Not all the way present.
You’re in the kitchen still. Getting plates. You offered. Before anyone asked.
He hears you in there—he hears all of that in the sounds of cabinet doors and plates.
Dre doesn’t look up from his phone. He looks at Dre.
“You good?”
“Yeah.”
“Long day?”
“Not really.”
He looks back at the TV. You come in with plates.
“I got the hot sauce,”
you say to him. Bright.
“You’re the best,”
he says. And means it.
You hand Dre a drink.
“I got your usual.”
Dre takes it.
“I said whatever.”
“I know. But you always get the usual so—”
“I might’ve wanted something different.”
“Oh—I’m sorry, I can—I can reorder, it’s not—”
“It’s fine,”
Dre says. Back to the phone.
“It’s fine.”
You stand there for a half second.
Holding your own plate.
He watches you absorb it.
You sit down. In the middle. Between them. Turn to him.
“Did you end up watching that show I told you about?”
“Started it,”
he says.
“Two episodes. You were right about the second one.”
Your whole face opens.
“Right? It gets so much better—”
“The main character annoyed me at first.”
“Okay but that’s intentional—How far in are you?”
“I finished it.”
“WAIT—”
you turn more fully toward him—
“all of it? Don’t tell me anything—”
“I’m not gonna—”
“The thing with the sister—I don’t know what happens with the sister yet—”
“Okay bubba—”
He’s smiling. Genuine.
He looks at Dre. Dre is eating. Still on the phone. Has not looked up.
You turn back to the TV.
Twenty minutes in.
The show is on. Not the one you recommended—Dre picked something.
You didn’t say anything. He puts his plate on the coffee table. Leans back.
“This show any good?”
This is to Dre.
“It’s alright.”
“You seen it before?”
“Parts of it.”
“What’s it about.”
Dre gives him a summary. Flat. Two sentences. He nods.
Looks at you.
“You know it?”
“Mm—yeah, I’ve seen some of it. It’s pretty good.”
“You like it?”
You consider.
“The third episode is really good.”
“What happens in the third episode.”
You look at him. Checking if he’s actually asking or just talking.
He’s actually asking.
“There’s a scene where characters who’ve been avoiding each other finally have to sit in a room together. it’s quiet but it’s a lot.”
“Quiet scenes are usually the most.”
“Yeah.”
You look at the TV.
“Yeah, exactly.”
Dre changes the channel. Without warning. Without commentary. Just—changes it.
Before the third episode. You look at the screen. New show. Different show.
You say nothing. He looks at Dre. Dre is settled. Comfortable.