It wasn’t like we had done anything. Hell, we hadn’t even kissed. And yet, here she was, flustered and fidgety, reacting like we’d been caught in something scandalous.

Tiffany bolted across the living room before I could blink, launching herself at Beverly with zero hesitation and maximum squeal. “You look like a grown-up version of yourself and I hate it,” she said, half-laughing, half-crying as she crushed her best friend in a hug. “Tell me y’all made out. Tell me someone cried. Or both.”

Before I could say anything, arms were thrown around me too—from behind, in classic dramatic fashion.

Blake ‘Mystery CEO’ McHayes,” Jamal said, squeezing the air out of my lungs. “My boy out here building empires and still too humble to tell me he⁠—”

“Let go,” I wheezed. “Jesus, your traps got bigger.”

“Thank you for noticing.”

We broke apart, grinning. I felt something in my chest loosen. We all drifted into the kitchen, where Tiffany hopped onto the counter like she owned the place, already elbow-deep in that giant leather bag that had been her trademark since she was fourteen.

“I brought something,” she said, voice light but eyes serious.

Beverly looked confused. “You always bring something.”

“This is different.” She reached deeper into her bag and pulled out a stack of crumpled envelopes, tied together with a red ribbon. “These,” she said, laying them down, “are yours.”

My heart stopped for a full second, then dropped somewhere between my spine and the floor.

“I thought you might want to read them,” Tiffany said gently, nudging the letters forward. “I should’ve told you sooner. I just… I didn’t know if you were ready.”

Beverly blinked, staring at the stack like it might explode.

Before she could touch them, Jamal snatched the bundle. “Ooh, are these the infamous Blake love letters?”

I panicked. “No⁠—”

“Yes,” Tiffany said at the same time.

Jamal grinned like he’d just hit the jackpot. “Gimme.”

“Don’t—” I lunged, but he was already across the room, clutching the letters to his chest.

“Nuh-uh,” he said, backing away toward the living room. “Let’s see what the sad genius wrote back in the day.”

“Jamal,” I warned. “I’m serious.”

“You’re always serious, bro,” he called from the hallway. “That’s why I love you.”

I took a step forward, but Tiffany grabbed my arm. “Let him,” she said quietly. “You’ll never get them back anyway.”

I shot her a glare, but she just shrugged.

“You should’ve written in invisible ink, my dude!”

Beverly was torn between laughing and being horrified.

Jamal plopped onto the couch, kicking his feet up on the table. “I’ve waited years for leverage like this.” He grinned, already ripping open the first envelope.

“If you read those, I swear to God⁠—”