I’ve come to this park at least once a week since I met Aiden, but I’ve never sat out on the lake. The water isn’t as blue as the big lake; it’s more of a greenish brown—but not in a gross way—and it ripples toward the shore, like someone just skipped a giant pebble across it. The lily pads are in full bloom, little spots of pink dotting the shoreline. If it weren’t for my ex-boyfriend sitting across from me, this would be an idyllic setting.

Zander doesn’t say anything as he sets a pole in front of me, laying it across the boat. Or as he casts his line out, slow and exaggerated in his movements, like a video tutorial with no words. He’s facing the water, and I pick up the other pole and do the same. Pressing in the lever, placing my thumb over the thin plastic line, letting it go when the pole crosses in front of my head. My line flings out over the water—not nearly as far as his—and lands with a tiny splash. I keep my eyes on the little white and red circle bobbing in the water where my line disappeared. If I have to be out here, at least I don’t have to look at Zander.

We sit in the boat for hours—until my stomach grumbles in anger and the water flattens like glass. It’s not until Zander opens the little white Styrofoam dish he’s been using to replenish our hooks with—the two of us engaging in a completely silent performance of poles and worms and lines flying out into the water—that we both realize we’ll have to go back at some point.

“I get that maybe I wasn’t the best boyfriend.” He reels in the last of his line and tucks the rod into the boat. “But I do love you. Just think about it, okay?” He chews on his lip, and I smack his knee.

“Stop that.” I hate when he chews on his lip. It makes them rough and horrible. But you’re not kissing him anymore. He would though. If I wanted him to, he’d kiss me. He’s begging me to take him back, telling me how much he wants me. He wants me to live with him this year. And I love the way this feels, him finally wanting me so much more than I want him. I wish I could care more.

“It’s your best option, right? Your only option?”

“Maybe not.” Zander has made a good point. It’s only a year. And I can’t spend a whole year at his house pretending to be his girlfriend, but maybe I can survive a year with someone else. “My mom is in town. It’s a long story—”

“And you’d actually live with her?”