Page 37 of A Solid Guide to Surviving a Situationship

Not because of what he said. Not because of what he did. But because of what I saw, and what I thought it meant.

Because in that moment, I didn’t see who he was, I saw who he could be.

For me.

And maybe Honey and Mel were right.

Maybe it was chemical.

Maybe it was potential.

But it was all real to me.

CHAPTER 5

MR. PERFECT ASS

I liked working in cafes that made me feel like I had somewhere important to be.

It was a Tuesday, which meant nothing was actually happening—but I still opened my MacBook like I had deadlines, emails, and a life that required urgency. I sat by the window at Bluebird, sunlight spilling across my table in that soft, flattering way that made everything felt a little more expensive than it probably was.

The place was known for its aesthetics—arching floor-to-ceiling windows, clean white walls, everything bright in a way that felt curated but effortless. It smelled like butter and coffee and something sweet I couldn’t name. Not the artificial kind, but the real kind that clung to your clothes just enough for people to think you were a legitimate café hopper.

Bluebird wasn’t known by the crowd, but it was never empty either. There were always people like me: laptops open, AirPods in, pretending to work harder than we actually were.

I looked around to amuse myself.

A girl in linen typed aggressively in one corner, like she was ending a relationship over email. Two guys in oversized polos discussed something that sounded like a startup no one asked for. A couple shared pancakes like they had nowhere else to be, or nowhere better.

But even in my cynic mind, something about this café made me feel very New York, even though I had never been to New York—fast, aesthetically pleasing, slightly self-important, of course. Everyone seemed to be performing something, though no one could quite say what.

Perhaps it was just the lingering influence of the colonizers.

And when nothing else caught my interest, I leaned back against the couch and stared at my screen. The cursor blinked on the Excel file I was working on, like it was waiting for me to become someone more productive.

I wasn’t.

I was just… here.

Comfortable. Quiet. Unbothered.

And for a moment, it felt like maybe my life was finally starting to settle into something soft, or something easy⁠—

The door opened.

I didn’t look up immediately. People came in and out all the time. That was the whole point of places like this. No one stayed. No one truly mattered.

But when I did look, my body reacted before my brain could catch up.

My stomach dropped.

And not a gentle drop. Not a nervous flutter.

A full, sudden, violent drop—like missing a step in the dark.

I froze.

There he was.