Patrick Zweig was no longer apart of your life, you weren't part of his. Or, so you both told yourselves. Yet both of your social media accounts were always at the top of each others lists. It had been years since Patrick had been your boyfriend, but he could describe your Instagram posts in explicit detail. There was no bad blood between you, when the relationship ended. It was mutual, for the most part. Long distance will do that to you.

You remained friends, well, friendly. Texts every few months, the occasional FaceTime call along with the once a year intentional catch-up. Not including the amount of times you'd bump into each other in bars, which one of you had coincidentally tagged on an Instagram story. Patrick had many times, while home from tour, arrived with a girl at bar you posted a date at. Neither of you would ever admit it, but you'd spent the years in your time apart trying to make the other jealous. Disguising it as simply having moved on, but secretly loving it when one of you caved and sent a 'are you on a date?' text. The main issue at play— Pride. Neither you or Patrick could ever be the first one to break, to admit what you were doing, the games you were playing.

"Is Art still married?" That definitely caught Patrick out of his daze as he stares at you across the table, he knows you're playing with him. The smirk on your face tells him everything, but you really did know exactly how to get under his skin. "You think I wouldn't have run back to Tashi already if they got divorced?" Ouch. Why did he have to be just as good at this as you were? His smirk present as yours falters slightly at his words.

He loves you like this, sitting pretty opposite him, getting to see all your expressions in person, not the chosen pictures for your social media. He gets to see you, especially when he gets to watch you all flustered when he continues to play along with his own game opposite yours. "Why'd you ask, tryna make me jealous?" Patrick pushes, beer in hand as his eyes never leave yours.