Page 39 of Exes That Puck
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For listening.”
He exhales, long and shaky. “I’m trying.”
We fall quiet again, but I have the feeling that he has a lot he wants to say. But I think he’s holding it back. I close my eyes, telling myself not to overthink it. It’s better this way.
The lamp throws a small halo on the wall, and the rest of the room is shadows and familiar outlines.
I let my eyes stay closed, just for a minute.
I don’t promise myself anything.
I don’t ask him to.
I let the rules sit at the top of my mind and enjoy this silence.
Tonight, he gave me exactly what I asked for, and it was good.
15
In the dark, with Kara’s weight warm against my chest, I trace lazy circles on her shoulder and try not to think too far ahead. The lamp throws soft light across the room, and everything feels suspended, like we’re existing in our own pocket of time.
“Water?” I offer quietly. “A snack?”
She shakes her head against my chest, but I can feel the shift in her breathing. The way she’s starting to surface back to reality.
“I should go soon,” she whispers.
My chest tightens, but I nod. “I’ll drive you.”
No bargaining. No asking her to stay. The wordsthis doesn’t change anythingecho in my head like a reminder.
I slip on sweats and a hoodie, then offer her the one she wore earlier. “You can keep it if you want. Or not. Whatever.”
She takes it without comment, and we move through getting dressed in careful quiet. Like we’re both protecting something fragile.
The drive to her dorm is short, windows cracked to let in the cold night air. I keep the radio low and the conversation lighter.
“Warm enough?”
“Yeah.”
“Text me when you’re inside?” I start to say, then catch myself. One-line rule. No check-ins unless necessary.
I walk her to the entrance, hands in my pockets to keep from reaching for her. When she swipes her card, I step back to give her space.
She pauses in the doorway, and for a moment I think she might say something. Kiss me goodnight. Ask me to walk her up.
Instead, she just looks at me with those eyes that give nothing away.
“Night, Z.”
She hasn’t used that familiar nickname in a long time, and fuck, it feels like a win to hear that from her mouth.
“Goodnight, Kare,” I say.
