He seems very earnest and sweet. I wish I was all-in on this. I keep trying, but my mind wanders to the kitchen this morning. Maybe I’m just wary of getting my feelings hurt again. I really didn’t think Fletch would be so cold to me. Ever. Logically, I knew the tutoring sessions were not a forever thing, but I thought we would be able to maintain civil friendships. Maybe once I’m in a real relationship, Fletch will ease up since he won’t have to push me away anymore.

But it hurts.

“So, how did you end up living with two guys?”

“I had a nightmare roommate in my freshmen dorm and the guys had an empty room. Fletch is my best friend’s big brother. You met Jenna Friday night.”

“Is it weird living with dudes?”

I laugh. “You have no idea.”

After dinner, he suggests a small party.

“I don’t know. I’m not really good at parties.”

Jones buckles his seatbelt. “The only way to feel more comfortable is to keep going to them. We can leave whenever you want.”

It’s definitely a smaller gathering than the one I went to with Fletch and Shane. The commonality is that Shane is here.

But he’s with a girl.

“Little bit,” he says, bumping fists with my date and kissing my head like I’m seven. “How’s your date so far?”

Since my date is standing behind me with his hand on my lower back, I answer, “Great. Fletch here, too?”

“Nah. Haven’t seen him.” He introduces me to the cute brunette with him, and she slides her arms around his waist.

Maybe she’ll pee on him next to show me he’s her territory.

Jones grabs me a red cup of beer, and I drink from it right in front of Shane, who sort of narrows his eyes at me but doesn’t say anything. Since he didn’t bring me here tonight, I’m not his responsibility. Apparently, Jones doesn’t subscribe to the theory of watching your date’s drink closely.

I feel like such a rebel.

Jones gets called to beer pong, a theme that seems recurring from the first party we went to, so I wander around the house until I find a dog in the kitchen. Perfect. Dogs are much easier to socialize with than people. I spend about twenty minutes with the dog, whose tag says his name is Hairy. When I go to find Jones later, he’s under a beer bong.

Perfect. He’s def not driving me home. That’s when I see Shane and his friend Nina going up the stairs together.

All the things I’m not supposed to feel are bubbling inside me in a frothy boil of emotion I don’t want. I’m not supposed to care who Shane does or doesn’t do.

My phone vibrates with a text. From Shane.