“It isn’t what you think,” he said, his voice lower now.

“Who is she?”

“Her name’s Sydney. She’s no one, Beverly. I barely know her. She’s from the gym. She needed help with something⁠—”

“Oh, yeah?” I cut him off, my voice rising despite myself. I could hear how wild I sounded, but I didn’t care. The anger was a living thing in my chest, clawing to get out. “Help with what, exactly? How to take off your shirt?”

“A project for school⁠—”

I scoffed, pushing off the door. “What subject did she need help with that required her to be in your bedroom?”

“Are you listening to yourself right now? She asked for help, that’s all. She didn’t want to meet at the library because her ex works there.”

I swallowed hard.

I hated this.

I hated him.

I hated myself more.

“Jesus, Beverly.” His fist hit the door, hard enough to make the wood shake. “Why do you assume the worst of me?”

I stared at the locked door like I could see through it. “Blake, you let me walk in on you with some girl⁠—”

“Who I wasn’t doing anything with,” he cut in.

“You expect me to believe that?”

“Yes!”

I let out a shaky breath, pressing my hands against my temples. “I don’t even care,” I said. “I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care.”

“Then why the hell are you acting like this?”

I froze.

Because that was the problem, wasn’t it?

I did care.

I cared so much that it hurt.

“I don’t care what you do,” I lied. “Go away.”

“You looked like you cared.”

“Just go away,” I repeated, my voice quieter now, betraying the vulnerability I was desperately trying to hide.

“If you don’t care, then why does your voice sound like that?”

“I don’t owe you an explanation.”

“You really think…” He trailed off, like the words were stuck in his throat. “You think I’d just bring someone home like that?”

“I don’t know what you’d do anymore.”

Silence.

Then, his voice turned rough, frustrated. “You know what, Beverly? I don’t have to tell you everything.”

I flinched like he’d slapped me.

I stepped back from the door. “Then I don’t have to listen.”

“You’re pissed because you’re jealous⁠—”

“Jealous?” I echoed, breathless.

“I think you’re pissed because you hate the idea of me being with anyone else. And you know what? You don’t get to have it both ways. You don’t get to push me away and⁠—”

“You think I pushed you away?” I snapped. “Are you serious?”

“You act like I’m the only one who let things get bad. Like you didn’t met with Reese and let him kiss you⁠—”

“Blake, I’m done. Just go away.”

“Beverly, open the door.”

“No.”

“Beverly.”

I heard it.