Blake’s expression hardened. “I could date just for the sake of dating. I could hook up with a different girl every weekend just because everyone else is doing it. But I’m not going to waste a second of my affection on somebody I don’t care about.” His voice was cold, matter-of-fact. “Why use girls just for the sake of saying I did, huh? I don’t care about hookups. I don’t care about parties. That’s not me. You know that.”

I blinked, momentarily thrown off by his words.

“I’m going to do things my way, at my pace,” Blake continued. “I won’t pretend to be someone I’m not to impress others. And if that makes me some kind of freak in your eyes,” his voice dipped lower, “then I don’t care. I won’t chase after girls just to prove something to a bunch of people who don’t know a damn thing about me.”

I swallowed hard. “I never said you had to⁠—”

“Then what’s the problem? What’s this all about?”

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

Blake studied me, his green eyes piercing in a way that made my stomach tighten. “What’s this really about?” he pressed, his voice low, almost accusing. “You want to see me with someone, Beverly? You want proof?”

My brows furrowed in confusion before my blood ran cold.

I barely recognized my own voice when I whispered, “What?”

Blake wasn’t the type to lash out, not like this. But there was something reckless in his eyes now, something simmering just beneath the surface.

“If you want me to go out with a girl that badly, fine… I will. Go ahead. Pick a girl. I’ll take her out tomorrow. Kiss her, even.” His eyes bore into mine, searching. “Is that what you want, B?”

My stomach twisted violently. “Don’t be an ass.”

Blake’s gaze softened just the slightest bit, but I hated him.

I hated him for saying it.

“Then stop acting like this, Beverly.”

I couldn’t look him in the eyes anymore, so I stared at the floor, my mind racing to find some way to make it better, to make this moment go away. “I… I’m sorry,” I said softly. “I’m sorry for making you feel like you had to explain yourself.”

Blake let out a sharp breath, his chest rising and falling with the force of it. His hands twitched at his sides, fingers curling and uncurling as if he needed something to do.

“Forget it. You’re drunk.”

I sucked in a shaky breath. “Blake…”

A beat passed.

Then another.

And then he reached into his pocket, pulled something out, and tossed it to me. I caught it, fumbling slightly, my drunken brain struggling to register what I was holding.

A cell phone.

Small. Blue. Brand new.

I stared at it, confused. “What⁠—?”

“It’s yours.”