Easy

what’s going on? I’ll help you find Erin.” His voice was low, for my ears only. “But first, tell me. Why are you so angry at Buck?”
    I looked up at him and my eyes stung. “Not here.”
    He compressed his lips. “Come with me? To my room?” When I hesitated, he added, “Jacqueline, you’re freaking out. Come talk to me.”
    I nodded and he led me up the stairs.
    He shut the door and we sat on his bed. His room, as usual, was neat and organized, though the bed wasn’t made, and there were jeans and shirts tossed over his desk chair. I recognized the sheets and duvet cover we’d chosen before coming back to campus this fall, because he wanted something new. I recognized his bookcase and his favorite novels, his law books, his collection of Presidential biographies. The contents of this room were familiar. He was familiar.
    “What’s going on?” His concern was genuine.
    I cleared my throat and told him what happened the night of the Halloween party, leaving Lucas out of the story. Listening silently, he got up and paced, taking deep breaths, his fists knotted. When I was done, he stopped and sat, hard. “You said you got away. So he didn’t—?”
    I shook my head. “No.”
    A breath whooshed out of him. “ Goddammit .” He pulled his tie loose and unbuttoned the top button of his white dress shirt. His teeth were clamped so tightly that the cords of his neck popped out under his skin like pipes running from his jaw down. He shook his head and smashed a fist on his thigh. “ Motherfucker .”
    Kennedy wasn’t usually much of a curser—certainly neither of these words was part of his standard vocabulary. He peered at me closely. “I will handle this.”
    “It’s already been—it’s over, Kennedy. I just… I just want him to leave me alone.” I was curiously without tears, which was odd. I felt like I’d gained strength from telling him, just like I felt stronger after telling Erin.
    His jaw clenched again. “He will.” He took my face in his hands and repeated, “He will leave you alone. I’ll make sure of it.” And then he kissed me.
    The feel of his mouth was as familiar as the items I’d catalogued when I walked into his room. The books in the bookshelf. The comforter under my hand. The rock-climbing equipment in the corner. The hoodie I used to borrow. The smell of his cologne.
    Unwittingly, I registered the feel of his lips, moving a little too roughly. I reasoned that his anger at Buck made his kiss less tender, but I knew better. Because this, too, was familiar. This kiss—it was how he’d always kissed me. His tongue snaked into my mouth, possessively, and it was familiar and fine and not Lucas.
    I jerked back.
    His hands dropped. “God, Jackie, I’m sorry—that was so inappropriate—”
    I ignored his slip. “No. It’s okay, I just… I don’t…” I cast about in my head, trying to define what I didn’t want. We’d been broken up for seven weeks. Seven weeks, and I was done. I stared at my palm, turned up on my lap; the realization and the finality were something of a shock.
    “I understand. You still need time.” He stood, and I stood, wanting out of this familiar room and this conversation.
    Time would not change what I was feeling—or not feeling. I’d had time, and though the ache from his desertion hadn’t disappeared, it was decreasing. My future was blurry, yes, but I was beginning to imagine a future when I would no longer miss him at all.
    “Let’s go find Erin for you. And I’m going to have a talk with Buck.”
    I froze, halfway to the door. “Kennedy, I don’t expect you to—”
    He turned. “I know. Doesn’t matter. I’m handling this. Handling him .”
    I took a deep breath and followed him from the room, hoping his intentions sprung from a determination to do the right thing, and not just because he wanted to win me back.
    Erin and I watched from the window as Buck and Kennedy faced off in the lot behind the house. It was too cold for anyone to party outside, so they were alone. We couldn’t hear the words, but the body language was unmistakable. Buck was taller and bigger, but my ex possessed an innate superiority that refused to cede control to anyone he deemed unworthy of it. Buck’s face was a veneer of annoyance overlaying absolute fury as Kennedy spoke, stabbing a finger at him one, two, three times, never touching him but showing no fear.
    I envied him that ability. I always had.
    We turned away from the window when