I blinked at him, trying to sort through what, exactly, had just come pouring out of his deranged mouth.

A moment more passed. Then I tilted my head at him.

“Wait a second. Are you saying that . . . ? What do you mean by give you a chance?”

“I’m in love with Charlotte,” he said, his voice monotone. “But I’m not going to ask your permission to date her even though you two used to be a thing because that’s just weird.”

I sat back, flabbergasted. “That’s weird?”

“Just for the record,” he said, waving a hand between us. “I’m cool with the dancing. It makes me insanely jealous, but I’m developing some coping mechanisms. Like dancing with your girlfriend while you dance with mine.”

“Charlotte’s not your girlfriend.”

His eyes widened, blazing ice through my soul. “I’m working on it.”

“Wait a second.” I placed my hands on the table. “You mean to tell me this whole time you were never really into Steph—?”

“What would you have done?” Wes asked, cutting me off. “What would you have honestly done if I hadn’t told you I was planning to move in on Armand?”

I frowned at him, absorbing all of this. Was Wes playing a double agent right now or, in true Wes fashion, some kind of jacked-up triple agent? In other words, was this a setup that was supposed to throw me for a loop and get me to see reason? Charlotte’s reason?

That made no sense.

But Wes liking Charlotte? That made even less sense.

Except . . . it also made perfect sense.

Because if Wes had really liked Stephanie, if he’d really wanted to make a move, why inform me? He and I were friends, but Wes would have thrown anyone under the bus if it meant getting what he really wanted. But, apparently, who he’d really been after was Charlotte. He had been sitting next to her a lot lately. And hadn’t I caught sight of them dancing together at the competition?

“I’ll tell you what you would have done,” continued Wes when I didn’t answer. “You’d have sat on your ass and done your take-your-time 1940s good-boy thing. And not been aware of anyone else but Stephanie. So just like right now except Stephanie might not be your official girlfriend.”

“It was all an act,” I said, shaking my head at him.

“An act to get you to act,” he said, his face expressionless, his eyes dead serious. “Because I knew the quicker you moved on, the quicker Charlotte would be able to.”

I stifled a laugh. At him and the whole cold, calculated, and overthought game.

“How long?” I asked him. “How long have you had it for her?”

“Let’s just say I might have plotted your murder a few times while the two of you were dating. But, in my defense, so did Patrick, because that whole episode was weird and made you both insufferable.”

I burrowed my eyes into his, searching for his level of sincerity. Because, when it came to Wes, he always left you guessing.