Page 156 of A Solid Guide to Surviving a Situationship

It was said casually… like a suggestion… like it didn’t mean anything.

But it did.

Because suddenly, I wasn’t someone trying to care.

I was a distraction. A background noise.

And just like that, everything I had been holding in—every painful moment, every offhand comment, every time I laughed something off when it didn’t feel right—started pressing up all at once.

The way he had been casually cruel to me.

The way he dismissed me like I was something easy to discard.

The way he didn’t seem to care about how I felt.

The way he never let me in—but still kept me close enough to stay.

The way I kept adjusting.

Softening.

Shrinking.

Just to fit into whatever this was.

A sharp pain twisted in my chest, because I realized, in that moment, I didn’t even know where I stood with him.

And worse—I wasn’t sure he even cared.

“You know what,” I said, before I could stop myself.

He glanced up.

I laughed, but there was no humor in it now. “I’m just trying to be here for you,” I said, my voice rising, “and you tell me talk to the ones who’s got a crush on me?”

“It’s not that deep,” he replied, already sounding irritated.

“That’s the problem, Vic,” I shot back. “Nothing is ever ‘that deep’ for you.”

His expression shifted. “James⁠—”

“No, seriously,” I continued, words coming faster now. Sharper. “Do you even want me?”

“I’m stressed,” he said, his tone low but tight. “Not everything is about you.”

“Not everything is about me?” I echoed, incredulous. “I’ve been acting fine this whole time. I’ve been adjusting to you this whole freaking time!”

“Adjusting?” he repeated, eyebrow raised slightly. “To what, exactly?”

“To this,” I said, gesturing between us. “To you brushing things off. To you saying whatever you want, hurting me, and then calling it a joke. To you making me feel like I’m too much for just… caring.”

He stood up now, slower, more deliberate.

“Watch your tone,” he warned.

There it was.

Not concern. Not understanding.