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Hitting my social media pages, I see that the story there is the exact opposite of the official news stations. Videos of Aro and me circulate, tagging her and me, and our involvement, which is as clear as day. When I check out her pages, just an Instagram she hasn’t used in over a year and a TikTok account with eight followers and no videos, I fight back a small smile. I’m relieved she’s not transparent about her comings and goings like everyone else on the planet, but she probably doesn’t broadcast her life because what’s there to broadcast? She’s never really had a chance to be a teenager.

I pause a moment, lost in thought. My mind trails from the pond to the gunshot to her hand, and to everything else in the eight hours since we met. I run my hand through my hair, rubbing my scalp and feeling like I want to laugh and puke at the same time. This partnership is going to kill me.

“Whoo!” someone screams.

I blink and look up, realizing it’s a TikTok video.

“When your boyfriend won’t touch you AND runs off with the girl who kicked you in the face tonight…” Schuyler shouts on the screen as I stare at the video of her in front of me. “At least now I know he’s not gay.”

I straighten, locking my jaw as liquid heat runs under my skin.

Laughter erupts around her as she straddles Asher Young reverse cowgirl and lets him paw her. “He’s just an asshole who’s forgotten in 3…2…1…”

He reaches around and slips his hand underneath her crop top while she leans back into him, laughing like I’m so easy to replace.

Son of a bitch.

And before I can stop myself, I scroll down, knowing nothing good comes from looking at the comments, but I do it anyway.

Queen! several commenters tell her.

Get ’em, girl!

Sounds like a piece of work. You’re better off! another one says.

He’s gettin’ it somewhere else. I told you!

“Jesus Christ,” I mumble, continuing to skim the comment section like I don’t know better. “Fuckin’ people.”

Asher covers her mouth with his, and my ex is practically dry-humping him. I pick up my phone and dial.

She picks up on the second ring, but neither of us say anything. She just breathes.

“Are you okay?” I almost whisper.

I shouldn’t be calling her. Everything inside me tells me that I’m the one who’s mad. What does she have to be mad about?

But still, she remains silent. Four months ago, I really liked her. Two months ago, I thought she might be the one.

This isn’t my fault.

I swallow through the sandpaper in my throat. “Don’t go somewhere you can’t come back from just to prove something to yourself,” I tell her. “Or to get back at me.”

The video was a shit move. Putting me on blast when she knows I’m not hooking up with anyone else, even though she didn’t say my name, is childish. As if people aren’t talking about me enough. They know who she’s referring to.

But I know what she’s really doing, and I don’t want her to fuck someone and regret it.

“Are you safe?”

“You’re not my brother,” she spits out. “Act like my boyfriend and get jealous.”

I lower the volume on the screen, but I let it repeat over and over again, watching him do all the things to her that I did with her, the only difference being he probably didn’t stop like I did. “Are you with him now?” I ask.

“Are you with her?”

“It’s not like that,” I snap, spinning around from the video and pacing the room. “There are so many other things going on that you don’t—”

“I blew him.”

I stop, falling silent. Images of him getting her like that flash in my mind, and I grip the phone so tightly I hear it crack.

“I kept expecting him to stop me like you always do.” She speaks softly—clear and steady—like she wasn’t drunk at all last night and meant to do everything she did. “But he just gripped my hair harder and shoved himself down my throat again and again, Hawke.”

I don’t breathe.

“I liked it,” she whispers, and I hear the smile in her voice.

I have nothing to say. Am I really that mad? Is that what this is? This brick turning in my stomach? Did I want her back? I let her go weeks ago, knowing she’d find someone else eventually. Does it just hurt more than I thought it would?

“You know why I’m telling you this?” Schuyler says. “Because I know it’s safe with you. You won’t tell anyone. You won’t shame me on social media. You’re a perfect gentleman, which is why I feel like I’ve dodged a bullet.” She laughs a little. “Your fucking would’ve been so polite. I’m glad I realized now how boring you would be in bed.”