I blinked. “Mine? You…you got me a phone?”

“Us.”

Guilt crashed into me so fast and hard that I felt it in my ribs, in the pit of my stomach, in the unsteady grip of my fingers around the phone. My phone. My first phone.

I felt like I was going to throw up from the guilt.

Blake shoved his hands into his pockets. “For the next time you’re at a party and need to call someone.” His voice was flat. “You shouldn’t have to rely on other people.”

I looked at him, the fight bleeding out of me, draining into the floor, leaving nothing but shame in its place.

Blake—always looking out for me, always making sure I had everything I needed, even when I pushed him away. Even when I was reckless and thoughtless and selfish.

“This is my first phone,” I whispered.

“I know.”

I ran my thumb over the keys, blinking back the ridiculous sting behind my eyes. I didn’t deserve this.  Not after tonight. Not after what I’d just done. Not after the things I’d said.

“When did you buy it?”

“Earlier.”

Earlier.

Before the party.

Before I’d let some guy put his hands on me just to get a reaction out of him. Before I’d made a complete fool of myself.

I squeezed my eyes shut, pressing my lips together.

When did I become this person?

When did I start treating him like this?

I had spent all night trying to get under his skin, like some pathetic, desperate girl in a movie.

I forced myself to swallow past the guilt sitting like a stone in my throat. “But that’s so—” My voice wavered. “Blake, these are expensive. You must’ve spent a fortune…”

Blake shrugged.

I clutched the phone in my hands, staring down at it like it held all the things I didn’t know how to say.

“Just keep it on you, alright?” His voice was tired, like he was done talking. Like he needed me out of his room.

“Blake, I⁠—”

“Goodnight, Beverly.”

He turned away, walking to his dresser like I wasn’t still standing there.

That was it.

He ignored me. Dismissed me.

Left me standing there, holding a gift, feeling like I had lost something I never even had.

I barely remembered walking into my room.

My legs felt unsteady, the alcohol still humming in my bloodstream, but it wasn’t the dizziness that made me sway—it was the ache. The sick feeling in my stomach that wouldn’t go away. It sat in my stomach, heavy and unwelcomed, twisting in ways I didn’t know how to stop.

I shut the door behind me and collapsed onto my bed, staring up at the ceiling as Blake’s words clung to my skin like something I couldn’t scrub off.