on his shoulder, or the obvious V-neck tan line on his chest, but the truth was, he didn’t have the heart for it. Even more honestly, it only increased how attractive and athletic Tim looked.
“So, what have you been up to?” Chris said instead.
“You know, work. Working out with Justin and Alec. We’re doing beach running. It’s brutal and making my calves huge .” his ex said. Why was he bringing up Alec and Justin when he knew Chris couldn’t stand them? They both had degrees in shade-throwing with a minor in bitch studies from the University of Hate.
“Nice. You’ll have to tell them I said hi next time you see them,” Chris said as flatly as possible, a polite grimace twisting his face into a poor imitation of a smile. “Well, I better run, I’ve got to get back to work.”
Chris was about to turn when Tim stopped him.
“Hey, hang on,” his ex said. “Take care of yourself, Chris. Might want to hit the gym. I can see you’ve been up to a little more eating than writing.” He effeminately poked one index finger into Chris’s belly.
Chris wanted to melt into the ground and just go away. He was embarrassed by his body more than ever, even without his ex jeering him about it in public. He’d done whatever he could to avoid Tim, and was hoping the next time he saw him he would have been when he was in better shape. No such luck.
Instead of telling him to ‘shut the fuck up’, he found himself swallowing his anger: it was such a frustrating habit. He simply chuckled it off. At least he would try to hide how much all of this bothered him.
“Yeah, guilty as charged,” Chris said with the same forced smile.”I’ve been working a lot, though. You know how sedentary my life is when I have a lot of work.”
“Still working on the same novel, huh?” his ex asked , stingingly.
Yes, motherfucker, as a matter of fact I am , he wanted to say: but of course he didn’t.
“Almost done,” he said.
“I thought you were almost done six months ago,” Tim noted.
Chris just stared at him: clearly he didn’t want to play nice.
“Well, you just don’t really know much about how writing works. Or reading,” Chris murmured passively. “It was nice seeing you. We’ll have to get together sometime. You know, for coffee or whatever.” And with that, he started to push the cart down the aisle.
“Stay good,” his ex called from down the aisle, “And lay off the chocolate, babe.”
He could hear a soft, malicious chuckle. Chris’s blood boiled. He had never felt more furious with Tim: no, he had never felt more furious with anybody.
His hatred was cleansing. It would give him the strength to change, and to abandon all his feelings of attachment to his ex. What a piece of shit . Three years of love and sweet talk, and he had the sociopathic gall to bully and shame Chris about his most vulnerable soft spot. What did he have to gain? Clearly, Chris had been deluded all along. Tim was not worthy of him, and Chris was determined to do something different. Anything different. He hurled all the junk food into a random shelf in another aisle and swung up to the cashier with a cart full of weird vegetables.
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CHAPTER 3
C hris felt like crying as soon as he came out of the grocery store. The sun beat down on his face and dogs barked. He took a deep breath. He would rise above his hurt feelings someday, but he couldn’t help but obsess about how much happier Tim seemed without him: as if everything they’d been through together and all those years of keeping it together meant nothing.
He marched up the streets under the palm trees, the humidity and heat making sweat roll down his arms. What was he thinking , walking, and then buying so many groceries? The bags were cutting into his hands and he had to stop periodically in the shade to adjust them. He only hoped they wouldn’t snap before he got home.
Chris suddenly remembered that he