Page 38 of A Solid Guide to Surviving a Situationship

Ex #1.

My college ex.

Francis.

And as if the universe wasn’t done humiliating me, he saw me immediately. No hesitation, no confusion—his eyes landed on me like they had always known where to look.

Then he smiled.

I didn’t smile back. I couldn’t.

My body went into full shutdown, like my brain had unplugged itself just to avoid processing what was happening. And before I could ever recover, he started walking toward me.

“There you are,” he said, like he had just found something he misplaced that morning.

I stared at him, completely blank. No thoughts. Just panic in high definition.

He tilted his head, still smiling. “Do you remember me?”

That snapped me out of the trance or whatever humiliation-induced paralysis I was in.

I blinked, shaking myself awake. “Yeah,” I said quickly. Too quickly. “Yeah of course.”

Up close, Francis looked exactly like himself—just more refined, more certain. His face still had that clean, square shape I used to trace my eyes when he wasn’t looking. His hair was neatly styled, nothing trendy or experimental like mine. Just… proper. His eyes were round, soft, and almost intense in a way that didn’t quite match the rest of him.

Because the rest of him had filled out. Not bulky, not overly muscular—just solid. He wore a crisp button-down, sleeves folded neatly to his elbows, paired with tailored slacks.

And then, unfortunately, my brain betrayed me.

Because I remembered something.

That ass.

Still there. Reflected faintly in the mirror by the corner. Still… offensively round and perfect.

He wasn’t called Mr. Perfect Ass in school for no reason.

I looked away.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, trying to sound normal and failing just a little.

He glanced around the café, almost amused. “This place is close to the university,” he said. “I work there, remember?”

Right.

Of course.

He was a professor at our university now.

The thought settled in slowly, bringing something tight and familiar.

Francis had always been like that, even back in college. Disciplined. Focused. The type who didn’t just pass exams but topped them. The type professors loved for his smarts, and the type everyone adored for his height and charm.

“Can I sit?” he asked.

I frowned, still trying to catch up. “No. Why?”

But he was already pulling the chair out. He sat across from me like this was the most normal thing in the world—like we hadn’t been lovers turned into strangers.