If I'm Being Honest(97)

Tyler doesn’t hear, or he pretends not to. He looks down at Madeleine. “I’ll drive you home after.”

“But I have—” she starts.

“I know,” Tyler interrupts, tugging her ponytail affectionately. “Your sister’s ballet recital. I’ll have you home in time.”

I roll my eyes. Watching them together was the quickest, if not necessarily easiest, way of extinguishing whatever lingering feelings I had for Tyler. Now when I look at him, I honestly can’t imagine dating him—regardless of how his objective adherence to certain standards of male desirability might occasionally affect me.

They smile at each other for a moment, looking like the contented lovers in erectile-dysfunction ads.

I’d hate them if I weren’t happy for them.