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Maybe sensing my swirling emotions, he stares straight ahead and blinks before sighing and lowering his shoulders. Moving to face me with his back to the coffee table, he puts his hand on my knee.

Tingles surge up my thigh to my snatch when he does.

Girl, please. Please get it together.

“I’m sorry, Shae. There’s a lot going on, and most of it has to do with stuff around my father. And Stratos.”

He seems like someone’s just batted his favorite dessert from his hand for a flash of a second, but then his expression clears. A cool indifference replaces the look.

“Is he in trouble?” I ask. There are a dozen ways a wealth management fund like the one Storm’s dad runs could get in hot water.

Storm squeezes my knee a fraction before saying, “Nothing he couldn’t handle if he wanted.”

I tilt my head at that strange response and Storm blows out a breath.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m not very good company right now. I understand if you want to leave.”

His head hits the cushion, and I resist the urge to run my hands over his short waves.

Do I want to leave? No, not at all.

But I don’t like being confused, either. Or being played.

I amsofucked.

“Storm, I?—”

Storm’s iPhone vibrating on the table interrupts the moment, and loose pages flutter to the floor at the movement.

He flips the device over and glances at the screen, his expression hardening when he sees the caller ID, which is clearly visible to me, too.

Bambi.

Well, there goes those warm feelings.

He says she’s just a friend, but there’s no planetary dimension in whichshethinks they’re only friends. It’s completely clear she has feelings for him—I could tell from the moon eyes she was giving him from across the quad.

Is that why he’s been so distant? Could it have nothing to do with his father and everything to do with her?

I can’t help the flicker of annoyance that crosses my face, but I quickly mask it with indifference.

After all the intimacy we shared, he hasn’t acted at all like someone who actually cares about the things he said.

Hot and cold. Hot and cold. He’s the one playing games, but I’m the one on the roller coaster.

Why should I care that the girl he told me not to worry about is calling him? Why have I been hanging on to the thought of him when I could be out living my life?

And that’s how you get played, sis.

Storm silences the call, not even an inch of regret in his expression.

“You can take it if you need to,” I offer, trying to keep my tone neutral, but there’s a tightness in my chest I can’t quite suppress.

“No, it’s fine. Bambi can wait,” he assures me, but the damage is done. The intrusion shatters our fragile connection.

I gather my things, the need to escape suddenly overwhelming. “I’m going to head out. I have some things I need to take care of,” I say, avoiding his eyes.

“Shae,” he says, and I ignore the note of steel in his tone.