He looks directly at me. “To Tessa,” he states, raising his glass in my direction.

“What?” My word seems to echo off every surface in the bar, amplifying around us.

“That’s it?” Reed asks, a frown pinching his forehead. “Nothing about me?”

“That’s it,” Luke affirms, keeping his eyes on me while he tilts his head to swallow his shot.

Mia makes an emotional sound next to me, which she quickly covers up with a cough when I shoot daggers at her.

Anger boils in my blood, but it’s the kind of anger that can so easily blend into another emotion. The kind of anger that makes your whole body shake as you fight back your tears.

I raise my shot, leaning closer to the bar so everyone can see me. “Well, since we’re all toasting to bullshit, not anything that really matters—” I stress that last word before I continue, praying for a steady voice, “—to Luke.” His eyes study my face with an apprehension I don’t see often from him. He’s not the kind of guy who gets easily unraveled, but I see it as he waits with parted lips.

I smile directly at him. “Fuck you. You broke my heart.”

“And happy birthday to Reed!” Mia yells as I tip one, then the other shot back, shutting my eyes through my swallow.

I steal a quick glance at Luke, checking that I still have all his attention, but I break the contact almost immediately after I get it.

Mia spins on her stool to face in my direction, hopping down with help from Ben. “We’re going to go play some pool. You two want in?” She directs the question at Mason and me.

“Who’s we?” I ask, letting my eyes meet the blazing intensity of Luke’s as he watches me from over top the beer he’s drinking. The sleeve of his shirt rides up his forearm, and I swallow as his ink is revealed.

Damn it.

“Everyone but you two,” she replies. Her belly nudges against my elbow, forcing her to take a step back. She looks down. “I have no idea how I’m going to physically pull this off. Maybe I’ll just keep score.”

“You two playing?” Ben asks, dropping his chin on Mia’s shoulder as his arms wrap around her.

I watch as Luke and Reed walk across the bar to the back corner where the pool tables are lined up.

“No,” I answer, just as Mason stands from his stool with a “Yeah, sure.”

“You don’t want to?” he asks me, lowering himself back down. His eyes glance behind me, and reasoning washes over his face. He looks at Ben. “No thanks, mate. We’re going to pass on this one.”

Mia and Ben walk away to join the others.

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly, turning my body once more so that it faces him. “If you really want to play, we can play.”

A small crease sets in between his eyebrows as he grabs his beer. “I’m good sitting here with you.” He brings the bottle to his lips as the annoying vibration in my lap starts up again. This time, he notices, dropping his eyes to the source.

“Fucking jerk-off,” I mumble through gritted teeth as my hand flattens against the phone.

“You can answer that.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s not important.”

He sets his beer down, his other hand coming up and scratching the stubble on his cheek. “So, are you going to be coming to any more of my classes?”

I try and bite back the automatic wince at the thought of enduring more yoga, but it breaks through, tearing a loud laugh out of Mason.

“Not really your thing, huh?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

I shake my head animatedly, sending my hair flailing about, brushing across my shoulders and the sides of my face.

His blue eyes grow bigger as he leans in to rub a strand of my hair between his fingers. “I really like your hair.”

“Thanks. I really like yours.” My hand is inches away from the blond strand darting out from behind his ear when my lap vibrates. I curse, cranking my neck around and glaring over my shoulder.

Luke is leaning against the wall, cue stick in one hand, his other dropped beside him to no doubt hide the phone he’s holding. His eyes slowly meet mine, and he tilts his head expectantly. Answer it. Stop fighting me.

I fumble with the phone in my lap as I turn back around.

I have to look. It’s killing me not to.

“I’m sorry. Just give me one second,” I say hopefully to Mason, if he’s still next to me. To be honest, I wouldn’t have any idea. I’m too focused on my thumb as it slides eagerly across the screen.

“No worries. Want another beer?”

I shake my head as I scroll back to the first message I ignored.

Luke: He’ll never see that part of you, Tessa.

I’m immediately confused, until I read his previous texts about how beautiful I am when I come. I guess now he’s deciding what guys I’ll sleep with. How sweet. I go to scroll to the next message, but my unwanted impatience nearly causes me to drop my phone.

“Shit.”

“Sorry?” Mason asks.

“Nothing, be right with you.” My eyes narrow in on the block letters.

Luke: He’ll never see that you’re just as desperate for him as he is for you.

I try to swallow, but I can’t. Instead, I let my mouth hang open as I read the first real confession Luke’s ever given me that pertains to his feelings. I read it again, then once more, as the words become almost illegible through the tears filling my eyes. I have one more message to read, and I can’t get to it fast enough.

Luke: Read this next line slowly, so it sinks in. It was never just about sex. Go back and read it again. Again, Tessa. Do it.

A laugh bubbles up in my throat as I re-read that line three times before I continue with the rest of the text.

Just in case you’re being stubborn, because you are stubborn, I’ll type it out again. It was never just about sex. Not even the other night when you kept me out. I wanted to be with you because it’s the only time I see how much you need me. And I don’t feel completely alone anymore.

My breath hitches as my hand covers my mouth, holding in the sob that’s begging to escape.

“Tessa?”

I hop off my stool, practically falling into Mason as I slam my phone on the bar next to my clutch. “I’m sorry. I need a minute.” The words come out like a desperate plea before I turn and push through the crowd of people in the direction of the bathrooms. I know the layout of McGill’s well; I know the long hallway that leads to the restrooms and the privacy it holds. I also know that I don’t need to look in Luke’s direction to signal him to follow me. I know he’ll follow me, and it’s confirmed when a hand grabs my elbow, halting me halfway to my destination.

“Hey.”

That little word is the only thing I allow him to say before I open my mouth.

“You asshole! You can’t send me texts like that. It’s too late! You’re too fucking late, Luke.” My hands shove against his broad chest, hard enough my elbows strain not to bend. He could fight against me easily if he wanted to, but the only resistance I meet is the wall behind him that’s unwilling to give.

I ignore the way my hands mold to his body. How my fingers reflexively seek anchor in the defined ridges of his muscles. It’s my body’s natural response to his. To grab a hold of any part of him I can.