Page 77 of Exes That Puck
While we wait for food, Zeke does all the dishes. I help dry while Ava controls the music from the couch. Ava is telling us everything that’s going on with her best friend, and I’m so relieved that I’m not the only one with drama.
After pizza, we settle on the couch to watch a movie. I end up sitting between them, Ava curled up on my left, Zeke on my right. I notice how he waits for me to settle before adjusting his position, how he doesn’t automatically put his arm around me or pull me closer.
Halfway through the movie, Ava turns to me.
“I owe you an apology,” she says quietly. “I was a complete bitch the other night. You didn’t deserve that.”
“Ava—”
“I was hurt and angry, and I took it out on you when you were just trying to be kind to me.” She looks down at her hands. “I know you care about my brother, and I know he cares about you. I shouldn’t have tried to sabotage that just because I’m bitter about my own relationship.”
“You were protecting me,” I say. “I get it.”
“Maybe. But mostly I was being a brat.” She looks between me and Zeke. “I can see you two are trying to do things differently. I should support that instead of being a roadblock.”
As the evening winds down, I can’t help but imagine Zeke and Ava as teenagers—him probably protective and slightly overbearing, her fierce and stubborn, both of them loyal to a fault. There’s an ease between them that speaks to years of inside jokes and sibling love.
I’m also acutely aware that having Ava around means Zeke and I haven’t had sex since that first night. Part of me wonders if that’s intentional on his part, another way of slowing things down.
When my Uber arrives, Zeke walks me outside. The night air is crisp, carrying the promise of winter.
“Thank you for having me,” I say.
“I’ll stick to sandwiches next time.”
He steps closer, and I can see the question in his eyes. Instead of just taking what he wants, he’s asking permission with his body language. I answer by moving closer myself.
The kiss is deeper than our previous ones, with tongue and heat and the kind of intensity that makes my knees weak. But it doesn’t escalate beyond that.
“Tomorrow, library?” he asks as my Uber pulls up.
“For studying or for making out in the stacks?”
“Both?”
I laugh and get in the car, waving as we drive away.
Back in my dorm room, I replay the bookstore moment while getting ready for bed. Six months ago, that interaction with the flirty customer would have led to a massive fight. Accusations, jealousy, tears. Tonight, Zeke just paused and didn’t react. That feels like a big step forward.
Part of me wonders if he’s holding himself back so tightly that he might eventually explode. But another part recognizes that what I’m seeing might just be growth—real, sustainable change rather than temporary good behavior.
Just as I’m about to put my phone away and try to sleep, I notice a new notification. Payton posted a selfie of her and I in her Stories and tagged me. I repost it and get hearts from all the girls within ten minutes.
Then a name I haven’t thought about in over a year appears in my DMs.
Josh Sampers.
I stare at the notification, my chest tightening. I can practically hear Payton’s voice in my head.Don’t open it. Don’t answer it. I thought you wanted to be with Zeke?
I do,I think back.
But Josh broke up with me right before I met Zeke, and I always wondered why it ended so abruptly. Curiosity wins over caution, and I click it open.
Josh:Long time Kara. How are you?
My fingers hover over the keyboard. This is harmless, right? Just saying hello to an old friend.
Kara:I’m good. How are you?
