Page 94 of Puck Fest
Can we talk? My place. 7 PM.
I stare at the message.
He wants to talk. Now. After releasing a statement saying we’re over. After telling the entire world before telling me.
I should say no, tell him to fuck off so he feels even a fraction of what I’m feeling right now.
But like an idiot, I do the thing I shouldn’t.
Fine.
The rest of the afternoon drags. I try to distract myself withtelevision and video games, but all I can think about is Noah’s statement.
The relationship has ended.
Past tense. Like it’s already done. Like I don’t get a say.
At six forty-five, I get in my truck and drive to his place.
I don’t park a block away this time. Fuck anyone who sees and says something about it. What’s the point of hiding when everyone already knows?
I knock on his door at seven exactly.
He opens it immediately. “Hey,” he says, his voice strained.
I walk past him into the house. “You wanted to talk. So talk.”
He closes the door. We stand in his living room, and the distance between us feels like miles.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
“For what? Ending our relationship in a press release? Or for not having the balls to tell me first?”
“Both. I should have told you before I released the statement. I was going to, but Marshall wanted it out before the afternoon news cycle, and?—”
“And what? You couldn’t take five minutes to call me? To give me a heads-up that you were about to announce to the world that we’re over?”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Then what was it like, Noah? Because it looks like you made a decision without me and then told everyone else before you told me.”
“I was trying to control the narrative. Trying to?—”
“Jesus Christ,” I bellow. “Fucking control. That’s what this is about, isn’t it? You controlling everything. The statement. The relationship. When it starts. When it ends.” I shake my head. “Did I ever get a say in any of this?”
“Of course you did.”
“Bullshit. I don’t remember you asking me if I wanted to end things. I remember you releasing a statement saying it was already over.”
“What did you want me to do? Keep fighting for a relationship that can’t survive this? That hurts everyone around us?”
“I wanted you to fight for us! I wanted you to believe that what we have is worth the trouble!”
“It’s not about worth?—“
“Then what is it about? Your father? Marshall? The organization?” I step closer. “What did your father say in that conference room?”
Noah’s lips press together before he finally speaks. “He said he’s disappointed that I didn’t trust him enough to tell him before the videos came out and that he had to find out with the rest of the world.”
