“That sounds promising,” she says to Leo after they’ve kissed for an uncomfortable amount of time. “So we’ll have your house all to ourselves.” She has to crane her neck to smile up at him. Because she’s so petite.

“You could even stay the night,” he says.

“Wait.” I find my voice. “That might get a little crowded.”

I say this without even thinking, and much louder than I intend to. Leo and the girl swing to face me. Leo’s eyes widen so dramatically I could laugh, if I thought I’d ever be capable of laughter again.

“Ada,” he says, sounding breathless, but then he was just sucking face with someone else. There wasn’t a lot of time for breathing properly.

I should say something scathing. That crowded comment was pretty good, but now I need something that will brutally cut him off at the knees. Something truly devastating.

“I wanted to surprise you,” I state hoarsely. “You look . . . surprised.” Epic fail. I spin around and stagger for the exit. The strappy sandals might be good for looking sexy, but they are shit for running.

And even worse, Leo is running after me. Alongside me, I realize. Talking to me. Although I’m not really registering what he’s saying.

“Ada, stop!” he exclaims as I reach the main door. He pulls me away from the line of people leaving the pool. “Please stop. Talk to me.”

I stop, if only because he said please. “I can’t think of anything to say.”

“I’m sorry if that hurt you just now,” he begins.

“If? You’re my boyfriend, and you were—”

Cheating. That’s the word for it. Leo is cheating on me. I’ve been cheated on.

“No, it’s not like that.” He shakes his head, his honey-brown eyes sorrowful, like this is all a tragic misunderstanding. I feel an improbable flash of hope, like maybe it isn’t like that—Leo cheating on me. Maybe I’m misinterpreting things somehow.

“We never established that I was your boyfriend, Ada,” Leo says. “We didn’t talk about being exclusive. I’m seeing now that we probably should have.”

I let out an incredulous, unladylike snort. “We’ve been dating for six months!” I exclaim, even though it’s only been five.

“I wouldn’t call it dating,” he says. “Do people even say that anymore?”

God. This is worse than cheating. This is Leo saying that I was never important enough to him to classify as his girlfriend. But I can’t bring myself to believe that. Every moment I’ve spent with Leo lately suggests otherwise.

“Is this because I wouldn’t have sex with you?” I whisper. “I turned you down last night, so for tonight you thought you’d find a girl who’d actually put out?”

What does that even mean, put out? Put out what, exactly?