I wrapped both hands around the coffee cup in an effort to bolster myself for this conversation. “You’re not wrong,” I said quietly. “Things shifted. Fast. And I didn’t get a vote.”
Mathieu watched me carefully. “I don’t want to compete with anyone,” he said. “Especially not him.”
“You’re not,” I said immediately. “This isn’t about competition.”
“Then what is it?” he asked, not sharply. Just… searching.
I swallowed. “I think we need to actually talk. Like—really talk.”
He nodded. “Yeah. I think so too.”
We resumed walking, slower now.
“Are we dating?” he asked.
The directness startled me, but I appreciated it.
“I would have said yes.”
“Would have?” I could feel his gaze on me.
“Yes, I would have said yes, before a few days ago.” I lifted my chin and looked at him.
“And now?”
“Now, I don’t know,” I said honestly. “I feel like I asked you the same thing a few days ago when I asked if you were going to ask me to Homecoming.”
“And I told you no,” he said slowly and I got the feeling he didn’t like being on the other side of this conversation. “Have you decided?—”
“No and this isn't about Homecoming. Is it a factor? Yes, but right now is not about that.”
He exhaled a long breath and I took a minute to knock back a long drink of the hot mocha. I almost wished it was alcohol.
“And… you’re still trying to understand everything else.”
Yes. At the same time, I wasn’t sure that my bruised heart had the space for all this drama. “I do,” I said slowly. “I?—”
“Are we exclusive, Frankie?”
That one made my chest tighten, but it was direct and to the point.
“I don’t think I’m ready for that anymore,” I admitted. The words spilled out and I didn’t even try to gate them. Not this time. A week ago? Two weeks ago? I’d have said yes without reservation. “Please believe me when I say it’s not because of you or the guys or any one factor or person. But because my life just… exploded. And I don’t know where I land in any of it yet.”
He absorbed that in silence.
After a moment, he said, “I don’t know what I can say to help you.”
I winced, but more in sympathy because... “That makes two of us. I really don’t know what to say to you or to me right now.” Or even what I wanted to say.
“Would it change anything if I said I would take you to the dance if that is what you want?” The question was so straightforward, genuine and earnest. It didn’t feel cruel or deceptive at all.
“Do you want to take me, Mathieu?” We’d stopped again and the school felt a mile away, we were alone out here in the morning sun. At least it was a nice morning.
“I like being with you.” He stared over the field for a moment, then turned to face me. “I don’t regret being honest with you—I don’t regret anything with you.”
Relief spilled through me, unwinding a point of tension I hadn’t even realized had been knotting me up. “Mathieu… I don’t regret anything with you either.” The fact I could say that and mean it, eased another boulder off my chest.
A smile softened his expression and when he lifted a hand to cup my cheek, I leaned into the touch. “I don’t want to pretend that seeing you with him doesn’t affect me.”
