Page 18 of Exes That Puck
“I don’t want to fight with you, Zeke.”
“Good. I don’t want to fight either.” I keep my voice level, controlled. Fighting is what got us here in the first place. “I just want to understand why you blocked me.”
“Because we’re broken up.”
“You keep saying that like it means something.”
Her eyes flash. “It does mean something. It means we’re done. It means you don’t get to text me whenever you feel like it.”
“I sent you a meme, Kare. Not a marriage proposal.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Why not? It’s your name.”
“Not anymore. Not from you.”
The words hit deeper than they should. She used to love when I called her Kare. Used to smile when I whispered it against her neck in the dark. Now it’s another thing I’ve lost.
“Fine,” I say. “Kara. Help me understand this. We broke up two weeks ago. We kissed Saturday night. Now you’re blocking me like I’m some stalker who can’t take a hint.”
“Maybe because you can’t take a hint.”
I laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “What hint? You kissed me back. You melted into me like you’d been waiting for it. That’s not exactly sending a clear message.”
She looks away, staring at the parking lot like it holds answers. “It was confusing. The whole night was confusing.”
“So you decided to block me instead of talking about it?”
“There’s nothing to talk about.” She shrugs.
“There’s everything to talk about.” Frustration bleeds into my voice despite my best efforts. “We have a year of history. An entire year of good memories mixed in with the bad ones. That doesn’t just disappear because you delete my number.”
“It does for me.”
The words are meant to wound, and they succeed. But I can see the lie in her eyes, the way she won’t quite meet my gaze.
“You don’t mean that.”
“I do.”
“Look at me and say it.”
She turns to face me, chin lifted in defiance. But her eyes give her away. They’re too bright, too determined. Like she’s trying to convince herself as much as me.
“I don’t want you in my life anymore, Zeke. We’re done.”
I study her face, looking for cracks in the facade. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not—”
“You are. You’re lying to yourself, and you’re lying to me to get me to leave.” I take another step closer. “You broke up with me to prove a point. That’s what this is about, isn’t it? You wanted to see if I’d chase you.”
She shakes her head. “That’s not—”
“Well, congratulations. You win. I’m here. I’m chasing.” The admission burns in my throat. “You made your point.”
Something flickers across her face. Surprise, maybe. Or pain. But she schools her expression quickly.
