Page 9 of Exes That Puck
“What? I’m just saying that kiss was meant to piss him off. And it worked,” Lola says.
Heat crawls up my neck. I shove lettuce around my plate, avoiding their eyes. “Can we not talk about it? I’m trying to move on.”
“Good,” Emma says firmly. “That’s exactly what you should be doing.”
Tori looks at Lola and says, “You should not get back with him. Aren’t you sick and tired of the back and forth? I mean… come on.”
Payton nods enthusiastically. “Totally. Which is why we need to find more parties. New guys. Fresh starts.”
They keep talking, planning weekend adventures and gossiping about classmates, but their voices fade to background noise. I nod when it seems appropriate, laugh when they laugh. Playing the part of the girl who’s moved on.
Lola stays quiet through most of it, occasionally catching my eye with that same concerned expression. She knows. She knows I’m drowning and doing a terrible job of hiding it.
When lunch ends, we scatter to afternoon classes. Lola lingers, falling into step beside me as we head toward the academic quad.
“You okay?” she asks once we’re alone.
I want to lie. Want to tell her I’m fine, that Saturday night was a mistake I’ve already forgotten. But this is Lola. The one person who never judged me for loving him in the first place.
“I don’t know,” I admit quietly. “I keep thinking about what you said. About us being intense instead of broken.”
She’s quiet for a moment, then stops walking. We’re standing in the shadow of the library, students streaming past us toward their next classes.
“Do you want to talk about what happened after I kissed you?” she asks.
My chest tightens. I close my eyes, feeling exposed. “I told you he kissed me. And I… I kissed him back.”
“And?”
“And nothing. Payton showed up, and I left with her. He texted me yesterday, but I haven’t responded.”
Lola studies my face. “Why not?”
The question catches me off guard. Why not? Because Payton would be disappointed. Because Tori would lecture me. Because Emma would give me that look that saysI told you so.Because everyone expects me to be strong enough to walk away and leave him in the past.
“Because I’m done with him,” I say finally.
“Really?” she taunts.
“Yes, really. It’s not a good idea. We’re terrible together. All we do is fight. It’s not logical. It would be so dumb of me to go back.”
Lola tilts her head, trying to figure out what to say. “Is that what you want though? Do you want to stay away?”
I don’t answer. What I feel and what I know are two different languages, and I’ve been lost in translation for weeks.
We walk the rest of the way in silence, splitting off when she heads to her chemistry lab and I trudge back to the dorm. Payton’s at her study group, so I have the room to myself. I dump my backpack on my bed and stare at my laptop, willing myself to care about the psychology paper that’s due in six hours.
Instead, I open Instagram.
His profile loads immediately. It’s muscle memory, my fingers finding him without conscious thought. His last post is from three days ago. A team photo after practice. I scroll through his stories. Nothing new. Nothing that tells me what he’s thinking or if he’s thinking about me at all.
I check his teammates’ accounts next. Carter posted a video from the gym this morning. Dylan shared something about protein shakes. Normal college guy stuff. No sign of Zeke anywhere.
The silence feels deliberate. Pointed. Like he’s moved on while I’m still stuck replaying Saturday night on an endless loop.
I close the app and open my laptop. The psychology paper stares at me, cursor blinking in the empty document. I type one sentence, then delete it. Type another, then delete that too.
Every word feels like a drag.
