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“Hi.”
“I was hoping you’d—” He stops. “Sorry. Hi. How are you?”
“Not great.”
“Yeah.” A breath. “Me neither.”
There’s a TV on somewhere behind him, and then it goes quiet, and I can hear him settle.
I close my eyes. “Evan, I’m ending it.”
The silence goes on so long I check the screen to see if the call dropped.
“Kylie,” he breathes.
“I don’t want to be your girlfriend anymore.”
“Okay.” His voice cracks. “Okay. Can we—can you just—”
“No.”
“You’re not even going to let me—”
“You already talked. Monday. You came here and talked, and I listened to all of it, and I’m still ending it.”
“Really?”
“You told her you were single.”
“I said it was complicated.”
“Evan.” I close my eyes, and he stops. I can hear him breathing, and I press my knuckles against my mouth until it passes. “Two weeks,” I say, when I can. “You texted her for two weeks. You told me I was being weird when I asked about your phone. You made me apologize to you. Then you kissed her at a party, and when I asked if something was wrong with us, you said no.”
“Nothing is wrong with us.”
“Okay.” My voice comes out wrecked. “That’s why I’m doing this. If something had been wrong, I could have fixed it. I’m really good at fixing things. I would have fixed it for you.” I wipe my face with the back of my hand. “There’s nothing to fix.”
He’s crying. I can hear it, and it goes through me like a hook, and every single part of me wants to make it stop.
“I love you,” he says.
“I know.”
“I’m in love with you, Kylie. I just fucked—”
“I know that too.”
“Then—”
“It’s done, Evan.”
He says my name again, and then he doesn’t say anything for a while.
“Is there somebody else?” he asks.
A laugh comes out of me, awful, half a sob. “Evan.”
“I’m asking.”
