I try to act all cool, like it’s whatever, but the tears streaming down my face betray me. It sucks when your body disobeys you.

“Yo, c’mon, don’t do that. I wasn’t try’n to . . . It’s not like that.”

I glare at him.

“Okay, it was like that.”

I wipe my tears, take a deep breath, and demand that my legs start working again and get me home. It works. I start moving. He follows.

“All right, I used you. My bad. I’m sorry.”

“Noted. Good night,” I reply stiffly, only to have him fall in step with me once more. “What is it? Why are you following me?”

“It’s your turn to apologize.”

“Excuse me?”

He gives me a small smile, as if to say he’s amused by the baffled expression on my face. “Ayo, I admit I used you. But let’s be real, you used me too.”

“How Sway?”

“The only reason you looking my way is because . . . you know,” he says, motioning to himself.

“No, I don’t.”

“Oh, for real? It’s like that?” he asks.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His jaw tightens and his expression turns serious. He folds his arms across his chest and glares back at me. “Ayo, be real. You only feel’n me because I’m fine.”

“You make Kanye West look humble.”

He sucks his teeth and purses his lips. “It’s true. The only reason you like me is because I look good. You don’t know anything else about me. And you can spin it any way you want, but you know you’re using me too.”

“You think I’m using you for your looks?”

“Yes. And to escape.”

I scoff loudly. “And what am I escaping from?”

“Your life.”

My jaw drops. I have words, but they don’t make it to the surface.

“Look, I know girls like you. You always follow the rules and do what you’re told. Then you watch one Megan Thee Stallion video and you want your own hot-girl summer. You want to be reckless with it. And that’s where guys like me come in. We were both wrong. The only difference is, I said I’m sorry.”

I pout like a child and turn away like he’s wrong. He’s not, but I’m just not ready to admit it yet.

Devonte adds, “And to answer your question, the reason I hit you up, even after I got the letter, was because I was feel’n you. I have ever since the pudding cup thing. I remember after you handed it to me, you said, ‘Don’t worry. You’re not required to reciprocate.’ It was first grade; I had no idea what that word meant. I had to go home and look it up.”

“I was a nerd even back then.”

“Yeah, you were.”

I glare at him.