Page 75 of All Your Pucking Secrets

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask, keeping the accusation out of my voice. I’m still trying to get my head around this, but if he’s telling the complete truth—or at least, his understanding of it—then so much of what I believed about the past is a lie.

He scoffs. “I was a dumb kid. I panicked. I didn’t have the emotional maturity to deal with the situation.”

I grimace. “I understand that. I’m still working on my emotional maturity. Some days, I just want to hide from the world.”

Lines of relief groove his face. “It wasn’t just that though. I… I didn’t trust myself to stay away from you. I was worried I’d change my mind and that my selfishness would cost you everything, so I needed you to make the decision. I had to be sure you’d want to stay away from me, so I did the worst thing I could think of.”

Tears fill his eyes.

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m so fucking sorry. Not a day goes by that I don’t regret what I did. I can’t forget your expression that morning beside the lockers. You were so brave, and I hurt you unforgivably just because I was too weak to be a better person.”

His voice is muffled, as if he’s speaking through a wall of water.

I shake my head.

All this time, I thought he treated me abominably because he’s a terrible person who enjoyed breaking me down in front of his elitist friends. He still did wrong by me—nothing can erase the pain he caused or the damage he did to my self-confidence—but the reason behind his actions makes a difference.

The why matters.

But he still ended our relationship by kissing another girl in front of me. I’m haunted by that image the same way he’s haunted by our encounter at the lockers.

He humiliated me, but he was trying to protect me, in his own misguided way.

“I need some time to process this,” I tell him, because honestly, a lot of what he’s said in the past few minutes has gone right over my head.

His shoulders slump, and he tugs his hand over the short ends of his hair. “Yeah. That’s fair. Take as long as you need.”

Unenthusiastically, he reclaims his plate and begins picking at his lunch. I do the same, and once again, a strained silence falls between us. This time, I have to acknowledge that I don’t actually hate Tyler anymore. I just don’t know how to feel about the choices he made.

When we’re done eating, I offer to help clean up, but he turns me down.

“It’ll take me two minutes,” he says.

Honestly, I’m surprised he’s not looking for a way to keep me around for longer. A couple of weeks ago, he would have been. But perhaps he’s as off-kilter as I am.

He walks me to the door but pauses before opening it. “Are you okay?”

I consider the emotional shitshow unraveling inside me, and nod. “I think so.”

I’m a mess, but it’s cathartic. Perhaps Dr. Rodriguez was onto something with her talk of closure. Even if the truth hurts, it’s still good to have answers.

“Can I call you?” he asks hesitantly.

I purse my lips. “Maybe in a couple of days. Let me have some time first.”

Then I stretch onto my tiptoes and brush a chaste kiss across his lips. My own lips tingle, the sensation unfamiliar. I haven’t kissed anyone on the mouth since him.

“Goodbye, Tyler.”

I leave while he stands frozen with shock.

19

TYLER

The lecture hall is buzzing on the day of our group presentations. Students are packed in tightly, and every now and then, I inhale a whiff of B.O. from someone nearby. I barely notice, too eager to see Echo.

This will be our first time face-to-face since she came to my apartment, and I hardly slept last night because I was twisting myself in knots about how she might react to me.

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