I narrowed my eyes. “Drop it, Tiff.”

She shrugged, but the smirk never left her face. “Fine. But if you don’t want him, someone else is going to snatch him up.”

I hated how that made my stomach tighten. My first instinct was to lie, to deflect and pretend like this was all in her head.

But Tiffany wasn’t an idiot, and she had known me long enough to see through all my defenses.

Before I could respond, a guy walked up to us, tall and tan with bleached hair that was probably supposed to look effortless but definitely took work. He was shirtless, wearing just a pair of red swim trunks, and his grin was cocky in a way that made me instantly wary.

“Damn, y’all look good tonight,” he drawled, giving us both a once-over. “And you look like you could use a refill.”

Tiffany flashed her best flirty smile. “That depends. Who’s offering?”

“Name’s Drew.” He held out a hand like we were supposed to shake it. Tiffany did. I didn’t. His eyes lingered on me a little too long. “You go to Lincoln High?”

“Nope,” Tiffany answered for me, reaching for a bottle of Coke and pouring herself a cup. “Private school girls. Super exclusive.”

I shot her a look.

The guy raised an eyebrow. “For real?”

Tiffany smirked. “Nah.”

I sighed as she kept the conversation going. She was in her element—flirting effortlessly, tossing her hair, making every guy within a five-foot radius fall under her spell.

I, on the other hand, was barely listening.

Because all I could think about was Blake.

Would he be asleep already? Probably not. He never slept early. He was probably reading some dense book about Nietzsche or statistics or something that would make my brain hurt. Or maybe he was staring at the ceiling, angry, wondering why I didn’t want him here.

I picked at my nails, trying to fight back the image of him.

Tiffany turned to me. “Are you even trying to have fun?”

I forced a smile, trying not to think about what Blake would say if he were here. Would he ask if I was okay? Would he lecture me about being careful around people like Drew?

“Yeah,” I lied. “This is great.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Liar.”

“I’m having fun.”

“No,” she whispered. “You’re thinking about Blake.”

“Shut up,” I hissed, glancing around, suddenly paranoid that Drew or anyone else would hear it.

Tiffany just smirked, sipping her drink. “You’re so obvious.”

“I don’t—” I lowered my voice, feeling heat creep up my neck. “Can we please drop it?”

She waved a hand. “Bev, you can’t hide it forever. He’s not your real brother, you know. It’s not like he’s off-limits.”

“Tiffany, that’s not the point.”

She shrugged. “I’m just saying.”