I shrug. “Didn’t seem like it tonight.”

“He was wasted. Trust me when I say all will go back to rights in the morning when he sees me.”

I frown. “Are you guys, were you guys like…” I don’t even really know how to ask it or say it, but it’s a suspicious thought I can’t let go of.

Quinn throws his head back and laughs. “Ah, wouldn’t that be the best situation? A horrible breakup between the best friend I fell in love with and me. Nah, I mean, yeah, no, I’m not gonna talk about it anymore. Some secrets die with you, but there has never been a moment in that guy’s life where he’s ever seen me as anything but his best friend or enemy. Trust me on that.”

“And what about you?” I ask, kicking a cup, then picking it up.

Quinn freezes; his hand hovers over the red solo cup before he picks it up and tosses it in the trash bag. “Hmm, jury’s still out on that, never really did the whole let me explore my sexuality thing in an intense way, but I will agree that it’s important to see people as people. I haven’t thought about it in two years.”

“Did you ever…” I swallow. “You know, like, experiment—“

“—Ah, story time is officially over. Thanks for coming. You can see your way out.” Quinn tosses a cup at my face; it’s empty, it makes me laugh. “You’re really pretty, by the way, just in case you don’t get told that enough. I felt like you should know.

My breath hitches. I don’t know what to say. Quinn raises his hand, it’s trembling, and then it’s pushing my hair away.

He looks pretty in the moonlight.

His hand drops. “Do you sometimes think that history repeats itself? Over and over again until you solve what went wrong?”

I swallow, lick my lips, and then have nothing to give him, no answer because I’ve wondered the same thing for so long. Are we just in a constant repeat motion? Will I always want Ambrose? Will I always fall for him even though I know better?

I shake my head. “I wish I knew.”

Quinn nods then. “Same. Same.”

“We should, uh…” I look away. “…go inside.”

“Did you though?” he asks as I start walking away. “With him?”

I don’t answer.

But it’s answer enough.

Chapter Twenty

Ambrose

“Kill me,” I moan. “Kill me now. Put me out of my misery. Make it end. Whyyyyyyyyyyyy.” I can barely move as I reach for the bottle of water on my nightstand and the Advil.

It feels like someone took a sledgehammer to my skull on both sides, both temples, and refuses to stop jamming it in.

I’m such an idiot.

Oh God, I puked in the bushes.

I vaguely remember Quinn taking me to my room and telling me to sober up and stop being an asshole, typical Quinn, but that’s it.

Is Mary-Belle okay?