When he came to my classroom this morning and asked if I wanted to grab drinks after work, I swore we’d entered the twilight zone. I spent the rest of my day on autopilot—gave five lectures, but couldn’t even tell you what I spoke about if I tried. And then when I walked into that bar and saw him sitting there, helmet beside him on the table, hair tousled, attention focused on his phone—which I swear I spotted him scrolling through my profile—it was like it was senior year all over again.

I can’t fucking stand the way he makes me feel. To this day, all these years later, he still affects me. Still makes me trip up… and it shouldn’t fucking be like that. He left. He left town—left me—after he told me what he wanted. Without so much as a goodbye.

I’m such a fucking coward, I can’t even bring myself to ask him about it. Ask why he fucking vanished, went ghost on me. Ask why he couldn’t call or even fucking text. And he’s not wearing a wedding ring. There isn’t even a ring tan line there, like maybe he forgot to put it on this morning.

So, are they together? Did they still split up? And if they did, why the fuck did he skip town, then? Was it me? Did he leave because of me? Fucking hell! I have so many goddamn questions, and I’m too fucking scared to ask them.

And scared of what? What exactly is it that I’m so terrified of? The truth? The truth has to feel better than whatever limbo this is that I’m living in.

My phone goes off, startling me, and when I flip it over, Kylie’s name flashes. I press accept and her face appears on the screen, wide smile and soft eyes aimed at me.

“Hey, Ky.”

“Hey, bud. What’s with the somber look on your face?”

“You’ll never guess how I just spent my night.”

She tilts her head to the side, tapping her pointer finger on her chin dramatically. “Uh, a rodeo?”

“What?! Kylie, why the fuck would that be your guess?”

She giggles before she says, “I don’t fucking know, man. It’s Texas. Isn’t that what y’all do? Cowboys and shit?”

“Lord, girl. No, I didn’t go to any rodeos tonight.”

“Then I’m stumped. What did ya do?” Her phone is propped up on what I think is her desk in her room, her elbows rested on the desk, and her face cradled by her hands. She is invested in the shit storm I’m about to unleash on her.

“I… I went out for drinks with Stone.”

Her eyes bulge, and her mouth is agape. “I’m sorry… you what?!”

“Bitch, you heard me. I went out to drinks—”