I tilt my head, crossing my arms like I’m perfectly relaxed. “Yeah. You know. Work. School. Friends.” I pause, then add lightly, “Men.”
The word hangs there between us and his jaw tightens. “Men?”
Really, Maddy?Men?
“Yeah,” I say anyway. “It’s been… fun.”
That’s a lie. I haven’t even looked at anyone else since him, but he really doesn’t need to know that.
He shifts a little closer. “You know, I think about the past sometimes,” he says quietly. “About us. About what we had.”
My stomach sinks. He pauses and lets out a big exhale. Then leans closer to me, like he’s afraid I might run from this conversation. Which to be honest, I am very much considering.
“I know I messed up,” he finally says.
That’s an understatement.
“Yeah, well.” I shrug, aiming for casual. “I guess that happens.”
A frown appears between his brows.
“I mean,” I add, gesturing vaguely, letting out a laugh that doesn’t sound convincing, “you stuck your tongue down someone else's throat, who cares?”
His expression softens instead of hardening. “I never wanted to hurt you.”
“Please, you never hurt me,” I start, trying to sound believable. “It was more a…minor inconvenience.”
Okay. That didn’t sound believable at all. If he wasn’t standing there, I’d probably slap myself.
I’ll just do it in spirit.
He looks at me again. “I care, Mads.”
My chest hits me with one sharp reaction, and I hate it. But a few weeks ago, hearing that would’ve wrecked me.
We got together in freshman year, after I’d spent months pretending I wasn’t watching him from across the cafeteria. I’d sit with my friends and tell myself I wasn’t looking, while somehow always knowing exactly where he was, what he was doing, who he was laughing with.
And then there was a house party. Someone threw up on me and I was standing there, mortified and ready to disappear, when he showed up out of nowhere and offered to take me home. It felt like I was living the rom-com movie. And I was, because that night he asked for my number, and a couple weeks later, wewere together. I wanted to be with him every second of the day. And I really believed we were that college couple that makes it all the way through.
Until last winter. We planned to go to the movies together when he told me he was sick and wanted to stay home. So I decided to go to a party I was invited to. And he was there, making out with some random girl from school. And I walked straight into it.
I cried for three days after that, like actually crying, nonstop, until there was nothing left. My phone lit up for days—calls, messages, excuses—but I never answered. I was furious at him. Even more furious at myself for believing everything he ever said in the first place.
There’s no one I’d rather be with, Mads.
“Well Jacob,” I say, aiming for nonchalant, “then maybe you should find someone who also cares.”
Yes, Maddy. Let’s go.
Kiara would be proud. (And probably ashamed of all my missteps earlier, but nobody is perfect.)
He watches me for a moment, like he doesn't really know what to say so I glance past him toward the building. “I actually need to get to class.”
Before he can respond, I step around him, heart pounding harder than I’d like. After a couple steps, I risk the smallest glance over my shoulder and see that he isn’t following. Thank God. I push through the school doors and exhale slowly, trying to shake the lingering tension.
The sun is lower in the sky as we pull up in front of the house. The back seat is filled with grocery bags—chips, soda, way too much meat, and whatever else Noah insisted we needed.
“Hey, dad’s home,” Noah says from behind the wheel, noticing his car parked out front.
