Page 48 of Exes That Puck
I’m exhausted by all these mentions as I say, “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Then explain it to me. Please.”
I sink onto my bed, still wearing yesterday’s dress. “He’s different now. He’s not pushy. We’re not fighting.”
“Because he wants you in any way that he can! Can you not see how toxic this is, Kare?”
I murmur, “I can’t stay away, Pay. Doesn’t matter the time or distance, we snap back. We’re obsessed. The sex is what we’regood at.” I look up at her. “We’re not back together. We’re just hooking up.”
Her face goes red. “So you’re just exes that fuck, and that’s it?”
The crude words make me lift my chin. “That’s all it is.”
“I don’t believe you. And I can’t watch you do this again.” She grabs her tote and heads for the door. “I seriously can’t. Don’t call me when he fucks everything up.”
The door slams behind her, and I’m alone with the echoes of everything she said. My hands shake as I pull out my phone and text Lola.
Kara:Blew up with Payton. Can I call?
I stare at Zeke’s message thread, thumb hovering over the keyboard. Part of me wants to tell him about the fight, about Payton’s anger, about how complicated this is getting. Why hold back now? I already broke the no-sleepover rule.
Before I can stop myself, I’m typing a long message.
Why did you have to fuck everything up? I know I was the one that initiated that we start hooking up again, but this was the worst idea ever. Payton’s mad at me, and she has every right to be. Why can’t I stay away from you?
I delete the stupid message. I just needed to get that off my chest. I delete it and wait for Lola to get back to me.
My phone rings. Lola.
“Hey,” I answer, and my voice cracks on the single word.
“What happened?”
By the second hello, I’m crying. The whole story spills out—how good last night felt, how awful the guilt feels, how angry Payton is, how lonely this in-between space is. Lola listens without offering advice, without giving me a speech about leaving him. Just stays on the line while I fall apart.
When the call ends, I curl under my comforter with mascara staining my pillowcase. My phone goes on Do Not Disturb, and I fall asleep mid-scroll through social media.
I wake up in the early afternoon feeling lighter. The weight on my chest has eased, like crying wrung something toxic out of my system. I shower, put on sunglasses to hide the puffiness and pull on a fresh hoodie.
Kara:Meet for greasy food? Hungover lunch at 2?
Lola: Say less.
I grab my tote and tell myself to take things one at a time. Homework and projects tonight, feelings later.
The diner smells like grease and coffee, exactly what I need. Lola’s already claimed a corner booth, steam rising from her fries. I slide in across from her and order a BLT and chocolate shake.
“For medicine,” I tell the waitress.
We’re both in hoodies and sunglasses. The perfect college hangover uniform. Lola pushes the ketchup toward me without being asked.
“I’m so dumb, Lola. I don’t know what I’m doing. Payton’s right.”
She doesn’t flinch. “You’re not dumb, Kare. You love him. It’s okay.” She nudges my shake closer. “Hydrate with dairy.”
I take a long sip, letting the cold sweetness coat my throat. “She listed every time she’s had to pick up my pieces. Every single one.”
“All of them?” she asks, almost wincing.
