Death and Relaxation by Devon Monk

true potential. From happiness.
    He’d told me that. Right to my face. He’d said I was ruining his life.
    And then he’d left, ruining mine.
    “Not with me,” I said, surprised it had taken me several seconds to find my voice. Surprised at how vulnerable him being here made me feel.
    “What do you mean?” he asked.
    “You can stay in town, but you can’t stay with me.” That came out stronger. Good.
    I stepped away from his touch and crossed my arms over my chest. “You need to find somewhere else to sleep.”
    His hands dropped to his side like a puppet whose strings had been cut. He suddenly looked lost and sad.
    “I screwed this up, didn’t I?” He sat on the foot of the bed, shaking his head. “I shouldn’t have just walked in here and thought you’d want to see me. It’s been months since I went away.”
    “A year,” I said. “That’s twelve months.”
    He nodded, his brow furrowed. “Yeah. A year. A lot can change in a year. People can change.” He looked up at me, at my mouth. “I’ve changed, Del. I’ve… I’m not that mixed-up mess I was. But you haven’t changed. Still as beautiful as ever.”
    “Listen,” I said, feeling bad for him despite my desire to shoot him. A little. In a non-dominant limb. “I’m glad you’re back in town, Cooper. But you and me? That’s not happening.”
    His face lit up with a smile. “You’re glad I’m back?”
    “You heard the rest of the ‘not happening’ thing, right?”
    “Sure,” he said. “Right. I know. We need time. New person”—he pointed at his chest—“new relationship. We’ll start with dinner. One of my roommates was a professional chef, and I can make a mean pasta.”
    “Same old person.” I pointed at my face. “We’re not having dinner tonight.”
    He gave me a kicked-puppy look. “Why?”
    “I have a thing I need to get to.”
    “A thing?”
    “An appointment. It’s work.”
    The corners of his eyes tightened and his hand curled into a loose fist. “Of course it’s work. Always work.”
    “What?”
    “Still the number one thing in your life. I would have thought you’d give it a rest. After your dad…”
    One look at my expression and he had the good sense to shut up.
    “I think Hal has a room open.” I pushed past him to the bathroom. Hal was Hades, god of the underworld. He ran a sweet little bed and breakfast on the north side of town. All frills and doilies and old-lady knickknacks. “He might give you a homecoming discount, but don’t hold your breath.”
    “Hal? I thought… Look. Sorry about the work comment. Really. Can I sleep on your couch? For one night? I’ll find a place to crash tomorrow if you want me to go.”
    “I want you to go find a place to crash tonight.”
    He followed me to the bathroom and leaned in the open doorway.
    Cooper was a little on the thin side, his long, lean muscles well defined. The tattoo across his left ribs was a stylized ram charging into fire. Down his right were words to a poem I didn’t recognize.
    No track marks on his arms. Yes, I looked. He had no impulse control, and high school had seen him through some pretty bad habits. He didn’t smell like old alcohol. When my gaze finally finished wandering up and met his eyes, it set off that slow electric tingle somewhere deep inside of me.
    It wasn’t love. But I’d known Cooper for years. Dated him. Thought I loved him. Thought I was building a life with him.
    The tingle was familiarity. Even though I was still angry at him for breaking up with me, I was surprised to find that I didn’t have it in me to hold on to the anger. What we’d had was gone. And now that he stood right there, half-naked in my bathroom doorway, wanting to patch things up, wanting to try to rebuild the card house he’d knocked down, I knew it wouldn’t happen.
    I’d fallen out of love with him. My heart had broken, but it was well on its way to healing, without Cooper in it. It was…unexpected. I’d spent a year wanting to