“Joke’s on you,” Jamal said smugly. “I’d be the kind of ghost that rearranges your shoes by color just to piss you off.”

“You know what?” Tiffany shoved the basket of fries aside. “I’m sick of you.”

Jamal flashed a grin, as if she’d just given him a compliment. “She’s obsessed with me,” he whispered to Beverly in a stage whisper.

“I heard that,” Tiffany snapped.

“You were supposed to.”

Tiffany’s eye twitched. “You’re delusional, and I swear, if⁠—”

“You know,” I cut in, “if you two hate each other so much, you could just stop hanging out. It’s really not that complicated.”

Tiffany turned to me and blinked once. “I… What?”

“Oh, we can’t do that,” Jamal said, his eyes wide with horror.

“And why not?” she asked, her cheeks flushed with irritation.

“We’re, like...stuck together. By circumstances. We’re bonded, you know?”

“Bonded?” she echoed, gripping the edge of the table as if she might flip it over.

Beverly squeezed my thigh to get my attention. She had barely let go of me since we left the tattoo studio—not that I minded. Her fingers were curled around mine, her thumb occasionally brushing the side of my hand as if she were trying to convince herself I was real. “Blake,” she said quietly.

I turned my head to meet her gaze. “What’s up?”

She hesitated for a moment, then said, “Let’s go home.”

I didn’t ask if she was feeling okay, or if she was just tired of Tiffany and Jamal being at each other’s throats ever since we sat down. Standing up, I tossed a few crumpled bills onto the table.

“You guys heading out already?” Jamal asked, watching us slide out of the booth.

I gave a small nod, not wanting to drag it out any longer. My eyes flicked to Tiffany, who was staring at us with wide eyes, as if she couldn’t quite believe we were actually leaving. “Sorry, guys. We’re out,” I said, and Beverly’s hand tightened in mine as I led her toward the door.

“Traitors!” Tiffany called after us, her voice loud enough to make a few heads turn in our direction. “Use protection!”

44

BEVERLY, 1999

17 years old

“Shhh,” Blake whispered against my lips, deepening our kiss.

I giggled, tripping slightly over the threshold as we stepped into the house. He barely gave me a second to catch my breath before gripping my thighs and lifting me effortlessly.

“Blake—” I started, but he silenced me with another kiss, carrying me up the stairs as if I weighed nothing.

A laugh bubbled up, only to be swallowed by his lips on mine. “You’re ridiculous,” I murmured against his mouth, a little dazed from kissing too much in the car and too lost in the feel of him to care that it was well past midnight.