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“So they’re really… really doing this now,” Halle says, whispering to her boyfriend next to her and very purposefully trying to not look at the lovey-dovey elephant in the dining room. “Like, that’s actually happening.”
“That’s the vibe I’m getting,” Chase whispers back incredulously, tilting his head towards his girlfriend and looking down at his empty wine glass.
“And that’s… obviously, if they’re happy, I’m happy!” she mumbles, absentmindedly refilling their glasses and running a fidgeting hand through her hair as he takes a swig. “But it’s… that’s…”
“It’s messed up somehow. I can’t explain it, and I can’t tell you why, but there’s something off there.” Silently, she agrees, taking Chase's hand and squeezing it tight, the telepathy of a couple who’s been together for almost a decade. Beneath the fringe of her bangs, Halle chances a long, analytical study of their newly matched friends as they navigate the party.
The thing is that they all know Blake, and they have for forever. They know he’s nice, attentive, everything a boyfriend should be. One look at him and the way he hangs on their every word, the way he predicts and handles their every need and problem, and one would think Bestie would be in safe, loving hands. Another, longer look at his constant, possessive arm around their waist, at his body language subtly angling himself between his partner and anyone else, at his smile dropping when they look away from him, and Halle is not so sure.