Page 86 of Exes That Puck
Maybe I should quit pretending to be someone I’m not. All this nice guy bullshit was just an act to get her back anyway and look where it got me. She’s already moving on while I’m sitting here playing by rules that apparently don’t apply to her.
I climb into my truck and tear out of the parking lot before I do something stupid like go back upstairs and fight with her. Though at this point, maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad idea.
When I get home, Ava and Brianne are sprawled on the couch surrounded by Ava’s shit. Hell, it’s a wreck in here. Westley sits at the kitchen table, scrolling his phone with an empty plate of food.
“I thought you were staying at Kara’s?” Ava says when she sees me.
Westley looks up. “You alright, bro?”
I shake my head just as the front door opens behind me. Scott walks in carrying duffel bags like he’s moving in.
“I’m here!” he announces.
I stare at him, then look to Westley for an explanation.
“What’s going on?” Ava asks, watching Scott haul his stuff inside.
“Got kicked out of my place. Need somewhere to crash,” Scott says, dropping his bags by the couch.
I scratch my head. “Uh—”
“Girls got the couch,” Westley says, pointing down the hall. “You can crash in my room.”
“Actually, I found somewhere else to stay,” Ava cuts in. “I’m going to move in with Elly, so the couch is all yours, buddy.”
Scott grins. “Sweet. Now I won’t have this guy poking my back in the middle of the night.”
Westley shakes his head as the girls laugh.
“You’re moving out?” I ask Ava.
She nods, already gathering her things.
I watch Scott settle in like he owns the place while Westley ignores all of us.
“Brianne,” I say. She looks over her shoulder at me. “Can I talk to you?”
Ava starts to stand, but I shake my head. “Not you. Just her.”
Ava rolls her eyes as Brianne follows me to my room. I close the door and turn the lock.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
I step closer, reaching to brush hair from her face. “Miss me?”
She stares up at me, something unreadable in her expression. I remember all the times we used to hook up. She’s the kind of girl that hook ups with no strings attached.
“Kiss me,” I whisper.
“Why?” she says breathless. I don’t know if that tone is shock or excitement.
I pull her closer. “Because—”
She presses her fingers to my lips. “Definitely not.”
When she tries to move around me, I catch her waist. “Bri.”
She looks up with a small smile. “Zeke, I’d love to hook up, but I’m not going to be your rebound. I don’t want to be anyone’s second choice.”
