“I’m not entirely a good person,” I say suddenly. “I’ve made some bad decisions. Done things I’m not proud of.”
Ethan turns to face me fully. “Like what?”
“Just... things. With Miles. Choices I made because I was desperate and stupid and thought being something was better than being nothing.”
“Piper—”
“I’m not the victim in every story,” I continue, needing him to understand. “Sometimes I was selfish. Sometimes I knew better and did it anyway.”
He’s quiet for a long moment. “After Paige, you know what hurt the most?”
I shake my head.
“Finding out from someone’s Instagram story. Walking into that party and seeing her with him, hearing from drunk strangers about how they’d been hooking up for months.” His jaw tightens. “The cheating sucked, but the lying? The letting me look like an idiot while everyone else knew? That’s what broke me.”
My stomach drops. I’m not thinking about Miles anymore.
The review. I should tell him about the review right now.
“Ethan...”
“I can handle bad decisions,” he says, taking my hand. “Hell, I've made plenty. But I need honesty. Trust. I'd rather know the ugly truth than be protected by pretty lies.”
The words are right there.
I'm ButterBoi69. I reviewed your game before I knew you. I gave it two stars.
“I want to be honest with you,” I say carefully, my heart racing. “There's actually something I?—”
“Yeah?” He turns to face me fully, eyes open and trusting, and suddenly I can't breathe.
What if he hates me? What if this ruins everything? We're just starting to build something real and I'm about to demolish it with truth.
I think aboutallthe ugly truths I’m carrying. Not just the review but the nights I snuck into Miles’s apartment. Knowing it was wrong but doing it anyway because I was weak and he was finally choosing me, even if it was just for a moment.
The way I let him use me because being his secret felt better than being nothing. And now this—another secret, another lie by omission that could destroy everything.
“Some stories... they're not just mine to tell,” I say finally, the coward's way out.
It's sort of the truth about Miles—Harper deserves to know first. But it's a complete lie about the review, which is entirely mine to tell and I'm just too scared.
“I'm not asking for every detail of your past,” he says gently. “I'm just saying—if we're doing this, really doing this, I need to know you trust me. Even with the messy parts.”
“I do trust you.” And I realize it's true, which makes my silence even worse. “I just... I'm still figuring out how to talk about some things.”
“That’s okay. We’ve got time.” He pulls me closer. “But for what it’s worth? Whatever you did, whatever choices you made—they led you here. To this bench. To me. So I’m kind of grateful for them, even the bad ones.”
“Even if I’m not who you think I am?”
“Who do I think you are?”
“Someone good. Someone who deserves...” I gesture vaguely at him, at us.
“Pip.” He cups my face, makes me look at him. “I think you’re someone who loved a person who didn’t deserve it. Who made choices from that love, even when they hurt. That doesn’t make you bad. It makes you human.”
I want to tell him everything. About the nights Miles would text at 2 AM, lonely and wanting. About how I'd go, every time, believing this time would be different. About how he'd kiss me in the dark and pretend not to know me in daylight. About writing that review in a fury because I thought someone as talented as Zarah had gotten lazy with her ending. About realizing it was his game and feeling sick ever since.
But the words stick in my throat.
