Nash: Yeah.

His response is short, perhaps a little curt, and piques my interest immediately. I stare at his one-word answer, contemplating what’s behind it. I could say goodnight and leave it at that, or I could do what I do best and pry. I chew on the inside of my cheek as I reread his text a few more times.

Was everything okay with you two tonight? I tap into my phone. I hesitate momentarily, wondering if I might be overstepping some kind of invisible boundary. Is it my place to ask Nash how he and his fiancée are doing? But then my curiosity gets the better of me and I press send.

After a few excruciatingly long moments where I begin to think the worst, those three dots appear in our text window for at least a few minutes. I wonder what he can possibly be replying with that is taking him so long. Then the dots disappear and my shoulders slump. The dots quickly reappear, and my heart picks up a few paces as I idly chew on my thumbnail, staring at the screen while waiting with bated breath. But just as I’m preparing myself to read his essay of a text message, my phone chimes in my hand, and my anticipation dissolves the moment I see his response.

Nash: Yeah. We’re fine.

Well that response certainly wouldn’t have taken two and a half minutes to write. What was he going to say? Maybe he was going to tell me the truth, because from what I saw earlier tonight things are most certainly not fine. I hate that he feels as if he can’t be honest with me—we’re best friends—but I decide to let it go. He clearly isn’t in the mood for talking, and I feel ridiculous for allowing a few dots in a text window to get the better of me.

Okay. Goodnight x, I send back, huffing out a sigh of frustration as I sink back into the cushy leather of the couch. I roll my eyes at my own disappointment. I’m not sure what I was expecting. Did I really think he was going to tell me that everything between him and Anna is falling apart? That he’s beginning to realize he isn’t in love with her anymore? That he no longer wants to marry her because he’s still head over heels in love with me? No, I didn’t. Well, not really. First and foremost, before love got in the way and ruined everything, Nash Harris was my very best friend. We used to tell each other everything. I just want that Nash back, the one who isn’t afraid to tell me the truth. The one who would write an essay text message, and expect an essay in return. The one I love more than life itself. I miss that Nash.

Just as I’m beginning to give up all hope on my plan to win Nash back because, let’s face it, he really does seem to be well and truly over me, my phone vibrates from the couch cushion beside me. With a furrowed brow of confusion, I pick it up to see another text message.