Page 11 of The Summer We Played Pretend

“It sucks,” is all I manage because there’s no point in saying much else.

“It really does.” She exhales. “And the worst thing is, he’s already been seen with someone else.” Her nose wrinkles. “Maisie Collins.”

I lift my hands. I have no idea who that is.

“She’s in the grade below,” Chloe explains. “She’s cute and blonde and—”

“If you say she’s prettier than you, I’ll throw your ice cream out the window.”

Chloe clutches the ice cream close. “The point is, if he’s moved on that quickly, he must have been cheating on me.”

I hiss out a breath. Now I really, really want to hunt him down.

“You deserve so much better,” I say firmly.

“I thought we were happy. I must have been really, really blind.” Her eyes, bright with unshed tears, search mine for answers I wish I could give.

“Or he’s just a prime asshole, Chlo. You deserve someone who'll treat you with respect, who won't betray your trust. Someone who sees just how incredible you are, Chlo.”

“I don’t feel very incredible at the moment.”

“You’ll get there.”

“Thanks for being here, Jackson. I know Ethan would appreciate it.”

This isn’t even about Ethan, I realize. It’s about Chloe.

“I’m always here for you,” I tell her firmly. “Always.”

She licks the spoon clean, then sets the tub of ice cream on her study desk and leans back against the wall. “I’m dreading facing him at work on Monday.”

“Wait.” I frown, genuinely surprised. “You haven't talked to him yet? Since...you know?”

“No. I can't face him—not after everything. He made it clear he doesn’t want to talk about this.”

I sit up straighter. This isn't like Chloe—the Chloe who argues her point with the passion of a warrior, who never backs down from a challenge. The Chloe who leads the debate team with a fire that can't be extinguished by any amount of opposition.

“You’ve got to confront him. You can’t let him take the easy way out.”

She sighs. “I don't know, Jackson. I just feel so...weak.”

“Look,” I say, scooting closer. “The shop's pretty quiet today. I could give you a lift over to Brendan's place if you want to talk to him. Get some closure or...whatever you need.”

She hesitates, glancing up at me with those big, expressive eyes. I can tell she's wrestling with the idea, but I also see the flicker of determination that I know so well.

“I tried going to his house the other day. He’s ghosting me.”

“He can’t avoid you forever.”

“Especially not when I know where he works,” she says with a half-smile.

“When’s he next at the restaurant? Monday?”

Her brow furrows. “What’s today? Friday?” She glances at her watch. “He’ll be finishing the breakfast shift soon.”

I give her a look, and she narrows her gaze.

“Oh fine, I’ll go confront him, and it will be awful.”

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