#FollowYourHeart

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My suspicions about Paulo, about the Argentinians, had acquired a lead-heavy weight of significance in my mind, however flimsy they initially seemed.

I sat in that toilet cubicle and went down an Internet wormhole of frantic Googling, each link leaving me more convinced that I'd accidentally—and foolishly—fallen into a dangerous geopolitical conspiracy operating at a global scale.

I had to talk to someone about it.

I had to.

And there was only one person that could possibly understand.

Ruben.

I shifted my weight on the plastic toilet seat, my bottom starting to numb with the uneven pressure. But I didn't want to leave my cubicle now, and not just because it was warm. The stuff I'd been reading made me crave a locked door between myself and the rest of the world.

I'd been trying not to think about Ruben after what happened last night.

I wasn't sure how I felt about the kiss in the sauna, and didn't want to have to face him until I was less confused.

But if my current state was anything to go by, that was never going to happen.

And now I had bigger, potentially life threatening things to worry about.

Besides, it wasn't that I didn't like Ruben—I'd wanted him to kiss me. At least, I'd thought I did.

But then when he actually kissed me, I really didn't enjoy it. It was thirty seconds of scratchy beard and unfamiliar lips and foreign hands—hands that weren't Ben's—and all I wanted was for it to end.

But Ruben was a great guy, funny and interesting and smart, successful, more successful than I'd ever be, and if he wanted me, it was craziness for me not to want him too.

I'd demurred and extricated myself as diplomatically as I could, trying to act like I was interested even though I was stopping it, not wanting to ruin my chances with him.

Because I did like him. I did.

Yet again, it boiled down to one fundamental problem.

Me.

I was basically crazy. No matter how hard I tried to be positive, my rancid, overactive little mind was inescapable.

I clicked on my messages to see the one from Ruben, and find out what he'd said.

That was a great message to get, wasn't it? A thousand times better than any Ben had ever sent me, I had to admit that

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That was a great message to get, wasn't it? A thousand times better than any Ben had ever sent me, I had to admit that. It would be nice to be with someone who sent messages like that. Someone who could communicate.

All I had to do was let go of the past and let myself move on.

Let myself to be happy.

Why couldn't I let myself be happy? I was my own worst enemy.

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