"And she wants to talk."
"About your 'break?'"
"Yeah. I guess." I ran my hand through my hair.
Noah was quiet for a moment. "You text her back yet?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't know what to say."
He watched me. Waiting for more. I grabbed my orange juice just to have something to do with my hands. Took a drink. Set it back down. The condensation left a wet ring on the table.
"It's complicated," I said finally.
"Yeah, I know." Noah leaned forward, lowered his voice. "Look, man. I'm your best friend. I'm not gonna say shit to anyone about what you told me. You know that, right?"
"I know."
"So talk to me. Let me help."
I looked at him. The genuine concern in his expression. Noah had been there through all of it—the video, the break-in, the closet. He'd heard me kissing Alex and hadn't flinched.
But telling him I liked sucking Alex's dick last night? Or that this whole thing started that summer at the lake? No way.
"I don't know what to do," I said.
"About Emily or about—" He glanced around, then lowered his voice even more. "About Alex?"
Just hearing his name made my chest tight. I scanned the room. The nearest table had a group of girls laughing about something, too absorbed to notice us.
"Both," I said.
Noah nodded. "Okay. So let's break it down. Do you want to get back together with Emily?"
The question sat heavy between us.
"I don't know," I said.
And it was true. A week ago the answer would have been easy. Yes. Of course. Emily was good to me. She was there for me. She made sense.
But now—
"You hesitated," Noah said.
"Yeah."
"That's not nothing." He tilted his head.
I pressed my palms flat against the table. The solid wood under my hands. Something real. "I care about her. I do. She doesn't deserve any of this shit."
"But?"
"But—" I stopped. Swallowed. Looked around again before continuing, voice barely above a whisper. "But it's not the same."
Noah nodded.
