Page 73 of Exes That Puck
I choose quiet. Suit up, focus on my gear, keep my mouth shut. The old me would’ve made some comment to reassert dominance or save face. This version just gets ready to work.
At noon, I’m back in the therapist’s office, sinking into the same chair as last week.
“How are you feeling about the fight?” she asks.
“Like an idiot. I let him get under my skin and I reacted instead of thinking.” I run my hands through my hair. “My sister showed up this weekend and basically told me I’m a terrible boyfriend. Then my ex and I decided to try dating—actually dating, not just hooking up. And then I went and proved I haven’t changed at all.”
“Tell me about the moments before the fight.”
I walk her through Liam’s comments about my focus, the missed play, the way my chest tightened with familiar rage.
“What were you feeling physically right before you dropped your gloves?”
“Hot. Like my skin was too tight. Heart pounding.” I pause. “Angry and embarrassed, I guess.”
She writes something down. “Let’s talk about HALT—Hungry, Angry, Lonely, Tired. These are common triggers that can make us more reactive. Were any of those present Saturday?”
I think about it. “All of them, actually. I’d barely eaten, I was already angry about disappointing Kara, lonely… I guess because she doesn’t want to be with me… and exhausted from everything.”
“So you were primed to react. The technique is to pause and ask yourself—am I hungry, angry, lonely, or tired? HALT. If yes, address that need before making decisions.”
She gives me homework: write down three situations this week where I’ll choose to listen instead of steer. I actually like having concrete actions to take.
Back home, the group chat is buzzing about Rocky’s next hangout, but I ignore it and text Kara instead.
Zeke:How’s 6pm for date two? Low key.
Kara: Okay.
I spend the afternoon prepping, hiding old jerseys that might trigger memories, tossing party flyers cluttering my desk. I even grab her favorite sparkling water from the store.
Ava’s in the kitchen when I get back, wearing one of my hoodies, eyes still puffy from crying. We make eggs in silence, the only sound the sizzle of butter in the pan.
“Thanks,” she mutters without looking up. “For last night.”
“Always.”
Dylan breezes in with his gym bag, and I catch a hidden smile on his face. Definitely the personal trainer situation.
“Gym?” I ask.
He just laughs, and that’s all the answer I need.
Afternoon skate goes better. I shadow the freshmen during drills, making sure they look good instead of trying to outshine them. Coach gives me one approving nod, which feels like approval.
At six, I meet Kara at the campus ramen place. Nothing fancy, just good food and conversation. We settle into a corner booth, and I remember the advice from my last therapy session.
“Talk to me,” I say. “How’s life?”
She pokes at her ramen with her chopsticks. “My coworker asked me to cover her shift at the last minute. Said it was anemergency, but then I saw on her Instagram that she was at a concert.” She shakes her head. “I said yes because I’m too nice, but now I have to rearrange my whole study schedule.”
“That sucks. Did you tell your manager it wasn’t actually an emergency?”
“No, I just... I don’t want to cause drama, you know?” She takes a sip of her water. “It’s not my fault that she’s the one lying. It’s just annoying. Next time she’ll just have to figure it out herself because I won’t be covering for her again.” A small smile crosses her face.
We take a few bites of our ramen and then I ask, “Is Payton being nice? Does she know you’re with me?” My nerves are high as I ask that because I realize how much her friends hate me, and I hate myself for it.
Kara’s expression shifts slightly. “She’s trying to be supportive. She said the dating thing is smart, that it’s healthier than what we were doing before.” She pauses. “But she also made me promise that if things go back to how they were, I have to be done. Like, really done.”
