"Was starting to wonder if you'd show," Leon comments offhandedly, watching out of the corner of his eye as you slide into his passenger seat.

It's been like this for months, almost ritualistic. You seek him out, fuck in his car, then part ways till next week.

He's an ex, nothing more. You've moved on. Doesn't matter if your new partner is a piece of shit. You've moved on.

At least, that's what you remind yourself. The way you feel when you're near him tells a different story.