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"Just go. He'll move." I lean forward and turn the volume dial on the dash to drown him out, and my mom slowly pulls forward until Tate steps aside. Then she turns the car onto the highway.

I stare out the window, wondering what I'm going to say to any of them—if they even call.

Maybe Tate will apologize, tell Mia the truth, and she'll have to get over it.

Yeah, right.I scoff at the thought.

I run through a few alternative scenarios in my head during the short drive. I could go along with Tate's lie; Mia would probably forgive me for being desperate. She might evenlikeit, thinking I got what I deserved—humiliated. I could shelf what's left of my self-esteem and keep being their part-time secret behind her back. Iwashappy…for the most part.

But I can't do that, either.

What if this is it?

As we pull into the driveway at Paul's trendy tudor style home, a part of me knows there's only one of these scenarios that will play out.

I'm never going to see them again.

three

I Fell in Love With a Narcissist, and All I Got Was This Lousy Psychosis

Noah

It's too red.

That's what I'm thinking when I look in the mirror at the color on my lips. It's too red—but Mia gave it to me and insisted it's the right color for my pale, freckled complexion, and she knows a lot more about this than I do. If it looks bad, she'll tell me, right?

I add some mascara and eyeliner, pull on a black pleated denim skirt with a cropped tank, slip on my sneakers, and leave the apartment.

It's hotter than usual, the air thick with humidity from the inevitable early summer rain. Wet hair sticks to the back of my neck by the time I reach the end of the hall.

After trying the knob and finding it locked, I knock on the door.

"What's up?"

Tate stands shirtless in front of me, the band from his boxer briefs sticking out over the top of the sweatpants hanging low on his hips. And that's where my eyes go.

My cheeks flush, and I quickly correct my mistake, meeting his gaze, but it's obvious he saw it, too.

"I'm just here for Mia."

"Mia's not here."

"What? Are you sure?" I ask, confused.

He flings the door open and steps back into the apartment. Silas sits on the couch with a beer in his hand. "If you don't believe me, you can look for yourself, but she's not here. She left with Levi like an hour ago," Tate says.

"Un-fucking-believable," I scoff, plopping down onto the sofa. I grab my phone from my pocket and send her a text. It's been weeks since we've hung out and she promised we'd go to this party together. She even picked out my outfit and this lipstick.

And Iknowit's too red.

Tate stands at the other side of the room with his arms crossed in front of him, staring at me with his brow furrowed, toying with his lip ring between his teeth.

I know that look. He's thinking—or plotting, more likely. Whatever it is, it probably isn't good.

"What?" I ask, tossing my phone onto the couch. "Just say it."

"Say what?"