“The bag was in the closet.” He peeks at me, then nods to himself. “It’s funny.”

He looks at me again, expectantly, and I realize he’s waiting for me to say something.

“Funny funny? Or ironic funny?”

He shifts. “It just seems weird, you know? Like why would she stash it in there? Careless is one thing, but that’s straight-up stupid.”

I shrug. “Guess she thought the cops wouldn’t check her Chanel.”

A veil of something I can’t quite put my finger on gently contorts his features. It’s obviously confusion, but mixed with something else, something unreadable.

“Looks can be deceiving,” I say. “If I saw a brand-new Chanel bag sitting pretty on the top shelf, I probably wouldn’t think to search it, either.” I shrug again. “Guess she had the same thought. Or maybe she was planning on getting rid of it, but didn’t have time. It happened so fast.”

“Yeah,” he mumbles.

Relief washes over me as he nods like I’ve just made perfect sense. I don’t expect him to laugh, and even though it comes a beat too slow and is clearly a tad contrived, I get it. The whole part of his world that revolved around Brandi is crumbling. This will take time.

I give him a faint smile. “I’m sorry, but she’s been fucking you over this whole time.”

Nate doesn’t say anything immediately, and I can almost hear my heart thrumming as he paces the tight space of his dorm room. I inch closer to him and I’m so relieved when he doesn’t push me away.

I look up at him. “Just because it’s over between you and her doesn’t mean you have to be alone.”

That pauses him for a moment, but I remember that glint of betrayal that flashed in his eyes after I cornered him in the gym. He’s not going to consider taking her back after this. Fuck that but I love her shit.

Nate looks like he’s jostling between two thoughts, two sides of himself. But I’ve hit a nerve. I’m so close, I know it. I feel it.

“Yeah,” he finally says. His voice is so low and remote I’m not even sure if he’s actually said it out loud or if I’m just imagining it.

I reach out a hand to touch his wrist. “So relax. If you want, we can—”

“Taylor, there’s no we.” He moves my hand from his arm.

I feel a sharp pang of rejection, but I push through it. “Nate.”