“Ouch!”

“Ass.”

“Why!” Quinn throws his hands up and then winks at me. Sometimes it’s easy to forget how handsome he is only because I think I fell for his words before his looks. He’s one of those guys that, even if he shaved his head and wore his sweatshirt backward and smelled like feet—you’d somehow still find him endearing.

Maybe if I didn’t have Ambrose, I’d want Quinn as more than just a friend.

I shake my head at the two of them and make my way over to the couch, lean over and take a bite from Ambrose’s nacho, spicier than I thought but gooey with hot cheese, black beans, lettuce, and some tomato.

I nod. “Good, very good.”

“Glad we have your approval.” Ambrose laughs. “But you have some cheese right here.” He points to the corner of my mouth. “I can take care of it, don’t worry.”

Before I can do anything, his finger taps the side of my mouth and comes back with cheese, he sucks his finger deep, and I nearly die when his lips make a popping sound afterward, like my body remembers what it was like to have those lips on me—everywhere.

“Easy,” Quinn grumbles. “You don’t need to give her a heart attack.”

Ambrose’s face falls.

Crap.

Quinn instantly realizes his mistake and sits down. “So, Pirates four, let’s do this.”

I try not to deflate as Ambrose wordlessly sits down and looks straight ahead like he’s not even watching the movie.

Quinn moves his hand to my thigh and shakes his head slowly.

It’s too raw.

I know this.

Everyone freaking knows this. It just sucks; it’s not like I had a gun and shot his dad. All I was doing was protecting the boy that saved me, the boy I loved, standing up for him, and while we haven’t fully talked about it, I figured that things were better now.

They felt better.

I take a deep breath.

“Why?” Ambrose finally asks without looking at me. “Why did you go to his office? I was fine; I was dealing with it; I’m used to it. Why did you go?”

“Aw hell,” Quinn grumbles and presses pause. “Maybe we should play a game? Drink? Go for a swim—“

“—You could have just stayed in your room.” Ambrose isn’t going to let this go, is he? “Why did you have to make me hate you? Why did you take him from me?”

I can barely breathe; my throat closes from anxiety, I’m sure… I mean, not literally but figuratively. “Regardless of what you want to believe, Ambrose, the only reason I went was because of you.”

“Because I was upset?”

“Because you were heartbroken!” I yell. “Because I love you!” He flinches like I slapped him. “Because it was wrong! Because I’ve been hit before, and it hurt even though it was by a stranger, and this is your father because…” Tears stream down my face. “…b-because you deserve better.”

Quinn reaches for my hand and squeezes it while Ambrose just stares straight ahead, his jaw flexed; he’s clearly clenching.