Both Grant and Elise still look like they don’t get it, and I don’t know what’s so confusing here. I mean, sure, it’s confusing for me. But it shouldn’t be for them.

“But we thought...” Grant says.

“I realize how messed up it was to lie to you,” I offer, desperately wishing we could stop going over this. It doesn’t matter what they thought. It doesn’t matter what I thought.

All I want to do right now is hide in my room under the covers. And maybe learn sorcery, so I can cast a spell that makes me forget how phenomenal it felt kissing Travis fucking Reed.

Damn it. Every time I get in my bed at night, I’m going to be reminded of what we did there. Maybe tomorrow I should go shopping for a new bed. That’s completely rational, right?

“We’re not mad,” Elise says. And the look she gives me is full of pity, which almost makes me wish they were mad instead. “What he’s trying to say is that we don’t understand how that could have all been fake, because...” As she trails off, she averts her eyes down to the table. “Well, because we saw you on the couch that day. And also, we, um, heard you two. You know. At night.”

Oh, god.

I’m not sure which of us turns more red. “Oh. Okay. Yeah, I’m sorry about that. We just, uh...”

While I struggle to come up with a polite way to explain that Travis and I were only hooking up because it was fun and convenient or whatever, May’s got her lips pressed tightly together and she’s shaking, obviously holding in her laughter. I can’t believe she’s hearing this. My sex life isn’t something I discuss with her. Though she’s clearly not too shocked by it.

I shoot her what I hope comes across as a stern parental look. A look that says, This is none of your business, and don’t you dare laugh at me. Unfortunately, this doesn’t work, and in fact, it seems to have the opposite effect. The barely contained laughter escapes her in a short, loud burst that makes Elise jump.

“Oh no, I’m so sorry,” Elise says. “We shouldn’t have said anything. But I could see how hurt you were at what Travis said today, and it just seems clear to me that he must not have meant it.”

“He said it,” I reiterate with more than a tinge of bitterness. “I can only assume he meant it.”

“No,” Grant says firmly. He curls his hand over the top of his coffee mug and shakes his head. “I know we only recently met that man, but I could see it plain as day from the beginning.”

“See what?” I ask.

“How strong his feelings are. I’m pretty damn sure he loves you.”