Two months later, the wheel of your shopping cart squeaks miserably down the aisle when you hear the voices.  Amid the hurried crowds they dawdle, pausing frequently, as if they would love nothing more then to wander for hours and hours. 

            He looks down at her, tall even when bent almost in half over the handle of their cart. Her face glows with complete adoration gazing back.  And the countless times you convinced yourself that you were over him don’t seem to matter anymore when the smile in his eyes burns a hole straight through the center of your heart. 

You close your eyes, leaning back against the cool car seat, and wondering why you said never ever ever.  Wondering why you’re so attracted to him in spite of the childish personality, the lack of social skills, the cocky behavior. 

            Now your eyes drift towards the overnight bag that you so naively packed.  You toss it unceremoniously into the back, start the car, and pull out of your space, distancing yourself physically and emotionally from the gambling, the booze, and the other woman. Because you were in high school the last time you felt this jealous.  And it scares you.

Her dark hair swishes and swirls around her shoulders as you wonder how you were so easily replaced.  Just months ago you had been so close to winning her over.  You had been her closest friend, her compadre, her amigo, and yet she had been whisked away all too quickly by Halpert’s charm.  It almost makes you wonder if she was worth all the effort in the first place.

            Then you hear her quiet laugh and you know that you’ll wait until the end of time for her to be over this Tuna phase.  Unless that receptionist chick is interested.

If it’s a love triangle, you’re definitely not a corner of it.  Because they’re a couple and he’s conflicted, and most importantly, she’s madly in love.  There isn’t room for anyone else.

            Even if she doesn’t know it, there is more than one desk with a great view of reception.  You’ve taken to just watching her and pretending for a little while that it’s the two of you against the rest of the insanity.  But then you blink and he’s scooping jelly beans into his mouth and her face is lighting up, and suddenly you’re terribly alone all over again.

Now that he’s back he sits across from you every day.  He entertains you with stories about Europe. You fill him in on the gossip about the remaining newbies.

            He’s always polite, always calm, always handsome.  And it’s so incredibly wrong and twisted, but you can’t help imagining he was the one who you made the deal with so many years ago.  Because you know that if you were his all the drinking and the gambling and reckless behavior would stop. 

You know it has to end.  You have to break it off before it’s too late.  Because sometimes you think you might love her.

You’re a quiet person, on the inside.  Serene even.  But that’s not how the world sees you.  That’s not how he sees you.  Sometimes you even pretend it’s sort of a job, being a magnet for all the useless information in the world.  It clings to you, clawing at your insides and clogging your mind.  Channeling it through your mouth is the only way to get rid of it, the only way to keep from going insane. 

            But he doesn’t see that.  Try as you might you can’t make him see that.  And one day he’ll dump you for it. 

Moving day.  You pack the few belongings scattered around room 228.  He helps with the things in storage.  Nothing about his attitude suggests he’s unhappy with this change, none of his words suggest he’s having second thoughts.  But you watch him and wonder if those are really your things his practiced hands are unpacking, if it was really your plea that changed his mind.

            You had been gliding effortlessly towards him on a sheet of frozen glass.  Now your ears are ringing with the sound of cracking ice as your new life buckles beneath you.  It won’t hold much longer.

Sometimes she’s cold and sometimes she’s proud, but she would never intentionally hurt you.  Still, you’re not blind and you notice every time her eyes get caught on his new beard.

            When you tell her you love her her whole face lights up.  When she returns your sentiments you don’t even need to check her for the three signs of lying.  But she still doesn’t trust you enough to let you sleep with your arms wrapped around her at night. 

            She could be the one for you if she would only let you know that you’re the one for her.