Hurt. But not.

"Oh my god."

"What?"

"That's Courtney," he pointed.

We were sitting at a bar outside of the city. He re-met all my friends and we were having a pretty perfect night out. He'd randomly come up behind me and nuzzle and kiss my neck. He laughed it off when Helen called him by the wrong name. We were the only people in the bar dancing and kissing and we didn't care.

"Which one is that? You have so many exes that I can't keep them all straight. Oh!" Courtney. The last girlfriend he had. The one he said he could picture himself marrying and now she's engaged to someone else. That Courtney.

She sat at the table in front of us and kept looking in our direction. She was older looking and very plain in her glasses and pin-stripe button down. Complacent, I called her. I leaned back and smiled; I'm much prettier. I didn't even need confirmation from anyone else in the room to know it either. Courtney stoically sat next to her fiance, an older man with salt and pepper hair, unwisely dressed in a Parrothead Hawaiian shirt. She looked back to Scott and then grabbed her fiance's hand, not making eye contact with either man.

"Does she live out here?"

"No, she lives in the city."

"Well, what are the odds that the both of you would leave the city one night to go to a small bar and watch an 80's cover band?"

He debated going over to say hello, but decided against it. He leaned over the table and grabbed another beer out of the bucket. We had been drinking a lot the week he stayed over. I'd come home from work, he'd take me out to eat at one of the restaurants he used to work at, and we'd come home and drink seven or eight beers. A piece. I told him I needed to cut back, but purely for the reason I didn't want to get fat. Besides, buying 3/4 a case of beer from the grocery store every night was starting to feel expensive.

We left the bar early--he had to work the next morning--and headed back to my place where we immediately stripped and fell into bed together as we had done every night the past week. Afterwards Scott got up and got dressed.

"I have to go home."

"What? It's after 2 a.m."

"I have to leave right now."

Previous excuses from previous boys began to fill my head: I left my alarm clock on and I have to go home so it won't annoy my neighbors. "Fine." It was cold and distant and everything it should be when I emotionally shut down.

Scott crossed the room and laid his head on my chest as I looked away, "It's nothing you did. You didn't do anything wrong. I just have to leave right now before I screw things up."

"You're screwing things up right now by leaving."

"The last time I felt this way, I married the girl!" he let out in a strangled high pitch. "I'm spooked, alright? But I'm spooked in the best possible way. It's like I found this pot of gold with you and if I don't leave right now, I'm going to fuck things up!"

My feelings were hurt. But they weren't. He was yelling at me, but he was yelling the best possible things to yell at someone. I was confused and I didn't know how to react. We just encountered his ex and now he wants to leave and I didn't know if the two were related, but I did know that leaving right after sex is the worst possible timing. I just wanted him to climb back in bed with me and fall asleep with me. I wanted to believe his words, but I didn't know if I could trust them. This is just another beginning of an end, I thought. I remained stone cold and distant, "If you want to leave, fine. You don't have to justify your actions to me."

"I'm not justifying anything to you! You don't get it!" he hollered. I heard him walk out of my bedroom and into my kitchen. I heard him grab his cigarettes and open my back door to smoke. I was afraid to show an ounce of emotion or an ounce of anything, so I remained motionless in the fetal position and facing my bedroom wall. I willed myself to sleep; I didn't want to hear him leave me.

Out on the balcony I heard him go "Arghh!" I didn't know if the frustration was aimed at himself or at me. I hoped it was at himself as I closed my eyes.