Page 16 of Exes and O's

“You were pretty into me in college,” he declares with no shortage of confidence.

My cheeks flush. “I mean, I guess it would be nice to know why we stopped talking.”

“Listen, I’m gonna be honest.” A grave pause. “You were great. We had a lot of fun together. But you were... a little...”

“A little what?”

He bites his lip, hesitant. “Clingy. A bit of a stage-five clinger.”

“Stage-five clinger?” I lean back in my chair, clasping a weak hand over my chest like I’m in grade school, obediently pledgingallegiance to the flag. Did this man really just call me clingy? The gall. The gumption.

“You texted and called me. Nonstop,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Okay, that’s an exaggeration. It’s not like I sat by my phone waiting with bated breath for you to text me,” I lie. I might have. But it seems like poor timing to come clean. And it doesn’t make mecrazy. I was in love, damnit. “In my defense, you told me you wanted to get married.”

He gapes at me. “No. I definitely never said that.”

“You did. The night we danced in my dorm room to that Toploader song. You said it would be our wedding song.”

“You thought that meant—” Red-faced, he runs his hands down his cheeks. “Obviously I didn’t mean it. I was eighteen years old. I didn’t even know how to do my own laundry back then. And I was probably just trying to get into your pants.”

“So you told me you wanted to marry me for fun? You can’t say shit like that, Jeff,” I warn.

“Yeah, I learned my lesson.” He snickers, almost to himself. “You know what they say. The hotter the girl, the crazier she is.” He goes on to mansplain this awfulCrazy Hot MatrixYouTube video he swears by. When he catches my blatant eye roll, he adds, “No disrespect. I mean that as a compliment. You’re a really good-looking girl.” His flattery misses the mark.

“But also really crazy?” I venture.

He shrugs. “I’m just one of those guys who needs more freedom, ya know?”

I want to poke a pin in his inflated head with a hundred-point list of all the reasons he’s in the wrong here, all the instances when he led me astray, but I refrain for the sole purpose of preservingmy dwindling dignity. Instead, I nod in mock understanding as Harmon collects my empty teacup.

The moment I stand, Jeff practically launches out of his seat, dragging his chair legs across the floor yet again.

“Well, I better get going. Catch you later, Tara.”

Or not.

Daniel (childhood love)

Tommy (ninth-grade boyfriend)

Jacques (Student Senate boy)

Cody (high school sweetheart)

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