I scroll through new names for the band, a list eight entries long on the notes app on my phone. Almost Roses. Athens Attic. Saturday’s Missing Pages. My head is bowed like I’m praying, but really I’m just avoiding eye contact with Tyler.

“I don’t want you back,” I say, finally looking up. “That’s not why I’m here.”

“Okay.” But his expression says he doesn’t believe me.

“This is stupid, really. I had this idea that maybe we could be different somehow. But maybe that’s just asking for too much.”

“You haven’t actually asked me for anything, Kate,” he replies. There’s an edge in his voice when he says my name. I wonder if he’s ever repeated it, once, twice, three times, tried it out to see if it would conjure me. Tried to call me once before. Hung up as the phone rang.

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