For the longest time after the breakup, you thought you hated Dodge.

Real, visceral hate, like it could seep out of your pores if you got too close to him.

You wrote texts you ended up deleting, daydreamt about keying his stupid car, thought about kicking up some rumor to get him shamed out of town. Vindictiveness was coming easier to you, at least when it came to him.

He'd shown up in your line of sight a week ago, arm around some girl with the fakest boobs you'd ever seen. It wasn't until you got back to your bedroom and let yourself cry that you realized no, you loved Dodge. Still. To a painful extent.

Really, you couldn't help the way it bothered you. Things had been so perfect right up until the end, right until he decided they weren't, that he needed time to himself. Himself. Yeah, right.

It was muscle memory that led you there, you thought, to the park near his house. It's where you'd find him on nights later than this one, like he'd been waiting for you all along. It's where you found him now.

Sitting on the grass, eyes on the pond like some anomaly might spring forth and give him something to talk about.

You sat beside him without a word, without really knowing why. He knew it was you, that much was obvious from the lack of greeting. But after a few minutes, he did speak, his voice softer than you think you'd ever heard it.

"Are you angry at me?"

Million dollar question. But it wasn't anger that you felt, not now at least. And it was easier to take this conversation when you could look at the water instead of him.

"Not angry. Just hope you never get laid again." That, you knew, was completely true. The thought of him sleeping with that girl he'd been with... it put a pit in your stomach worse than the day he'd called it quits.

It earns a small laugh from him, and he lays back on the grass. There's a thoughtfulness to him tonight, an attribute you'd forgotten about in your time apart.

"Yeah, well, you don't have to worry about that."