Cheating on Myself by Erin Downing

planning to look blissful and happy when I saw him again. I clutched the green folder to my chest, hoping he wouldn’t ask about it. “I’m just getting lunch.”
    “Isn’t it kind of late for lunch?” He asked, looking at his watch.
    “I eat when I’m hungry,” I snapped, eager to show him I didn’t play by the rules now that we were broken up. I was a new, spontaneous, self-directed woman.
    “You look beautiful,” he said, as I reached for a muffin.
    I deliberately chose a pumpkin muffin—which I’d never ordered in the history of our relationship—and handed it to the woman taking money.
    “Thanks. You look good, too.” He didn’t. He looked stiff and old and unhappy. Was his chin fatter than the last time I’d seen him? It was probably impossible, but I was going to hope. I wanted him to look a little worse.
    “Three dollars,” muffin girl said, and I reached for my wallet.
    “I don’t have my purse,” I clutched the latte and my folder desperately. I’d left the office without my Centrex ID, without my purse, without my wallet. “I’m sorry, I’ll have to come back later.” I moved to put the muffin, with its one tiny bite, back on the table with the others.
    Erik quickly pulled a ten out of his pocket and offered it to the woman. “Let me.” I thanked him, and we walked together down the crowded sidewalk. I picked at my muffin, wishing I could have picked the time and the place to see him again. I just had to make the most of it.
    “So you’re dating…” Erik shuffled awkwardly beside me, and I had this sudden reminder of him as a twenty-three year old. I remembered the first date we’d gone on—he’d been all arms and legs and awkward self-confidence.
    I’d been so won over by this scrawny, sure-of-himself guy. Even though he was only a year older than me, he’d treated me like an adult when I was fresh out of college, and that had made me feel important. We’d skipped the crazy, drunken first dates and gone straight to visits with Grandma and family dinners. I wonder if Erik knew how to do crazy, drunken first dates? I made a vow to have one of those of my own, just to prove I could do it.
    “Anders and Lil signed me up for an internet dating service,” I said, stretching the truth. “There are some real winners out there.”
    “Which site are you using?”
    Oh, God, was Erik dating, too? What if I accidentally got matched with my ex-boyfriend? I’d heard about that happening—hopefully Anders had tweaked my profile to make me seem enough unlike me to prevent that from happening. “Why? Are you hoping we get matched?”
    “Yeah, I was going to sign up just to find you and hope I could convince you to go out with me.”
    “Are you making fun of me?” I asked, irritated. I looked at Erik and realized he was being serious. “Why would you do that?”
    “I miss you, Stella. I want you back.”
    In every novel and movie I’d ever read or seen, this is the line the heroine is waiting for. But instead of Erik’s words making me giddy or filling my head with cheesy guitar love ballads, my first instinct was to run away. “You don’t want me back.” I thought about my conversation with Anders just a few days earlier, and how I’d wished this was how Erik was feeling. Suddenly, confronted with his admission, I was disgusted. It just seemed so sad .
    “Can I try again?” He looked at me with his deep brown eyes, pleading without looking like a baby. Erik was a guy who knew how to get what he wanted. He’d just fooled me enough times that I wasn’t going to fall for it so easily again. “I know we weren’t perfect, but we were happy. I was happy—weren’t you? Let’s try again.”
    “You tried again. And again. And again.” I ran my hands across the small flowers on an autumn-blooming plant. “I’m happy now, Erik. Please, can you just let me move on?”
    He grabbed for my hand. “Maybe if we do things differently?”
    I looked at him, curious. Erik didn’t