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CHAPTER THIRTY

EVE

I t’s strange how much your perception of a place can change. How a place can look the same, but you feel so different.

I stare at the exterior of the apartment building where Ben lives with David and one other friend, fiddling with the bracelets on my left wrist.

I’ve been here hundreds of times before, but this is my first visit post-breakup.

Mary texted me this morning, once again begging me to come to the movie with her tonight. And I—fresh off the high of the most incredible sex I’d ever experienced and filled with a confidence that I could conquer anything—agreed.

I miss my friend. And being around Ben sounded easier after what happened with Hunter last night. We’ve both been with other people. And Ben hasn’t attempted to contact me since our conversation on Monday.

More than easy , seeing Ben felt like an opportunity for growth. A chance to show myself I’m strong enough to recover from losing someone.

I didn’t answer my dad’s call on Tuesday. This feels like a second step in the same direction.

I dry my sweaty palms on my favorite pair of jeans and blow out a long breath before starting up the concrete walk. I’ve never noticed before, but the path to the front door is more cracks than solid cement.

My stomach grumbles, reminding me I skipped lunch and haven’t had dinner yet. I was in the studio most of the day, finishing my new painting for Professor Alday.

I buzz the button for 3A, and a male voice answers with a “Yeah” seconds later.

It’s hard to tell with the static, but I think it’s Devon, Ben’s third roommate.

“Hey, it’s Eve.”

More static, then the click of the door to my right unlocking. I grab the handle before it locks again.

Warm welcome.

The elevator in here only works half the time, so I head for the stairs. My mind wanders to Hunter as I climb the three flights, partly because I’m reminded of him every time the seam of my jeans rubs against my underwear.

The sex was good. So, so good.

But the emotional connection—talking to Hunter on my couch in the middle of the night—is the main reason he’s filled my head all day. When he was talking about his brother, I got the sense that it’s not a topic he discusses very often. I’ve never heard Harlow—or Conor or Aidan—ever mention Hunter’s brother. It seems possible that they…don’t know.

And if Hunter confided in me about something his best friends aren’t aware of, that’s a lot more than the one-night stand I crossed off my fuck-it list this morning.

I knew I felt that way about Hunter. Attraction has always been one of many feelings I have for him.

Last night, I expected the sex to seem…practiced. For him to be the popular jock who knew exactly what to do and say.

But it felt real, and not just for me. For him too.

I reach 3A, blowing out a long breath before knocking once.

David opens the door. “Oh. Hey, Eve.”

“Hi, David.”

“Thought you were the pizza.” He turns and heads into what I know is the kitchen, leaving the door open.

Okay, then .

I have no idea what details Ben did—or didn’t—share with his friends about our breakup, but it seems like they were selective. David or Devon have never been effusively affectionate toward me, but we used to exchange more than just a few syllables when I came over, at least.

Tonight is feeling increasingly like a mistake. But I’m already here, so I step inside, shut the door behind me, and follow David into the kitchen.

“Eve!” Mary hurtles into my arms as soon as she spots me, smelling strongly of tequila.

My stomach turns. My memory of that night at Sand Bar is still a little hazy, but my nose does not have any positive associations with the smoky scent of alcohol.

“I’m so glad you came!” she adds, bouncing back to beam at me.

I return Mary’s wide smile, not surprised she’s already started drinking. Ben and David like to discuss a director’s style and filmography before going to see a movie, and their conversations tend to make the film itself seem riveting by comparison.

“Me too,” I reply, unsure if it’s a lie.

“Ben’s in his room,” she tells me. “Grabbing his laptop. He wanted to show David something.”

I nod, taking a seat on the stool next to her so I feel like less of an imposter standing in the center of the room. David’s leaning against the counter next to the sink, scrolling on his phone, presumably waiting for Ben to come back. There’s no sign of Devon, but he only participated in these outings sporadically. I have more sympathy for the “fifth wheel” situation he was in after being in that position myself.

There’s a box of donuts open on the counter. I recognize Holey Moley’s logo on the side.

“Help yourself,” Mary urges. “I got them for you.”

I thank her and grab a chocolate glazed.

So damn good.

“Want a drink?” Mary asks me, gesturing toward the three bottles on the counter.

“Is there something besides tequila?” I ask, squinting at the labels between bites.

“What’s wrong with tequila?”

“Spring break,” I remind her.

“ Oh . Right. There’s vodka?”

“That’s perfect.”

“What does tequila have to do with spring break?” David asks, glancing up from his phone.

Now he decides to be chatty.

“Eve had a little too much fun,” Mary replies, winking at me.

“Oh, yeah. Ben mentioned you were partying with Harlow Hayes,” David says, then looks back down at his phone.

His cavalier comment pisses me off for two reasons.

One, it means that Ben was definitely sparse in details shared about our breakup. Because Ben dropping the bomb that he’d changed his whole future without consulting me and Harlow jumping in to make sure I didn’t spend spring break depressed and alone is not what I’d describe as partying .

Two, there’s definitely some judgment of my best friend in David’s tone, which I suspect might be a sore ego about how poorly his date with her went. I’m offended on Harlow’s behalf—and Mary’s, who is sitting right here.

Mary scowls at her boyfriend. “Eve isn’t allowed to have fun?”

Ben walks into the kitchen with his laptop tucked under one arm before David can respond. He glances around, taking in me holding a half-eaten donut, Mary as she glares at David, and David’s sheepish expression.

He clears his throat before speaking. “Hey, Eve.”

I don’t echo the greeting. “You told David I spent spring break partying ?”

Ben grimaces a little, moving the laptop under his other arm as he takes another step into the kitchen. “Well, I said you were probably partying.”

“That’s such a stereotype,” Mary says. “The athletes on campus aren’t the only ones who party. And they won a national championship.”

Ben frowns. “Wait, what?”

“You think Eve was partying just because she spent break with half the hockey team? It’s not your business anymore, Ben!”

Gratitude for Mary’s defense is eclipsed by dread when I get a glimpse of the incredulous look on Ben’s face. “You spent spring break with half the hockey team ?”

“No. I mean, yes, some of the guys were there. Not half the team. But you’re not in any fucking position to judge how I spent break, right, Ben?”

He winces, but recovers quickly. “You let me feel guilty about Rowan when you moved on just as fast?”

“Rowan?” David asks, confirming my assumption that Ben withheld some relevant information. “What does Rowan have to do with anything?”

I ignore David. Ben can share details later. “I let you feel guilty? I let you feel guilty , Ben? I told you that I was relieved . How the fuck is that letting you feel guilty?”

At least he has the sense to look shame-faced. “I—I wasn’t sure if you were just saying that. We were together for three years, Eve. We were going to live together.”

“All past tense, Ben! Everything’s different now!”

“I know! I know it is! I know I fucked everything up!” He throws his hands up in the air. “That means I can’t be upset you spent break with a bunch of other guys?”

I blow out a frustrated breath. That’s exactly what it means , hovers on the tip of my tongue.

But Ben looks hurt, not just mad, and I can’t make the words come out. “I went on a trip with Harlow and her boyfriend and some of Conor’s friends because it was that or sit alone on the couch for a week. You can feel however you want, Ben, but what I do or who I do it with isn’t any of your fucking business anymore.” I glance at Mary. “This was a mistake. I’ll, uh, I’ll text you later.”

I spin and head for the door.

Three steps down the hallway, I hear Mary call my name.

“Are you okay?” she asks as soon as I turn around.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” Surprisingly, I mean it. I’m annoyed by Ben’s behavior, but not at Ben. It feels like I’ve moved on, and now I’m waiting for him to catch up. “Sorry to bail like that, I just?—”

“No, I get it. I’m sorry I pushed this. I missed the way things were, but things change, right? Even if you guys had stayed together, everything would have been different after graduation anyway.”

The sky doesn’t change . If Hunter were here, I’d say it aloud. It’d probably coax a half smile out of him.

“It’s not your fault,” I tell Mary. “I think Ben needed to hear it was over again.”

“He really slept with Rowan?”

I nod.

Mary shakes her head. “If I’d known, I never would have?—”

“I know,” I assure her.

“I heard there’s a party on Oak. You wanna go?”

I do, actually, but I glance at the apartment door. “What about the movie night?”

David isn’t my favorite person right now, but I think his treatment of me tonight was mostly driven by loyalty to Ben. And I’ve spent enough time around him and Mary to tell he adores her. I’m not interested in allowing my drama to affect their relationship.

“I’ll survive without seeing the movie with the ten-word title I can’t even remember. Plus, I’m mad at David. He was a jerk to you.”

I open my mouth to speak at the same time the door swings open. David appears.

He gives me a hasty, apologetic look, and then focuses on his girlfriend. “Mary.”

“What?” she snaps.

“I’m sorry, okay? Really sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten involved or said any of that stuff.” He glances at me. “I didn’t mean to stir anything up, Eve. I just—I know Ben has been really broken up about you guys, and I… I was trying to look out for him. Maybe even get you to see you made a mistake. But you’re always welcome here, regardless of what’s going on with you and Ben.”

“Thanks, David,” I tell him.

He nods, then glances at Mary. “Will you come back inside? Please? We can watch whatever you want.”

Mary looks to me, clearly torn about what to do.

“We can hang out next weekend,” I say, solving her dilemma.

“You’re sure?” Mary questions, still uncertain. She clearly feels badly about staying behind.

I give her a quick hug. “Positive. Have a good night, guys.”

Then, I start down the familiar carpeted stairs for what I’m certain will be the final time.