“Hey, I did my best. I could’ve talked shit about him to him in front of you. But I didn’t.”

“No, you rarely said anything to him. That made get-togethers fun.” I sigh and shake my head, bending my knees up and digging my toes into the mattress.

God, why am I arguing in Richard’s defense? I don’t care about him. I hate him. What is wrong with me?

I miss CJ.

“Look,” Reed begins. “I didn’t like the guy. And I didn’t like him for a bunch of reasons, but one of those reasons wasn’t just because you were dating him, Riley. If he were a decent guy, I wouldn’t have cared. He wasn’t.”

“You wouldn’t have cared? You said you weren’t going to be shy about hating the next person I date, Reed. So it wouldn’t matter if he was a decent guy or not. You’d automatically hate him. The guy wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“I said I wouldn’t be shy about hating the next worthless piece of shit you date,” he corrects me. “He’d stand a chance, as long as he didn’t fall into that category. Decent guy’s typically don’t.”

“Oh,” I breathe, wiping my sleeve across my wet lashes.

“CJ is a decent guy, Riley.”

My hand falls heavy to the mattress. My eyes shift around my room as if Reed just spoke to me standing inside it. “Uh . . . okay. Why would you say that?”

“He’s a decent guy,” Reed repeats, saying it a little slower this time.

I feel my nose start tingling. I know he is, I think. He's the best. Amazing. Better than you, even. Or at least equal.

But why . . .

“Yeah, I might’ve gotten on him a little after finding out about you two `cause he’s a friend of mine, the same way Ben got on Luke about dating Tessa, but that shit is allowed. And it just means I got a higher expectation of him `cause I know the guy personally. CJ would’ve understood that.”

I hear the doorbell ring downstairs and the faint sound of my mother greeting someone, but their voices are muffled. Everything is muffled under the noise of my pounding heart and heavy breathing and the words screaming inside my head.

Reed knows. He knows about me and CJ. He knows I lied.

“You should’ve told me,” Reed continues on. His voice is lower. Stern. “What if you and Beth were friends before I met her and we kept that shit from you? How would you feel?”

I swallow thickly, sitting up and swinging my legs over the side of the bed so I’m facing the window. “Shitty, I guess,” I murmur. I tuck pieces of hair back into my hood and blink at the carpet.

“Yeah. I felt pretty shitty an hour ago,” Reed reveals.

“I’m really sorry.” I pinch my eyes shut for a breath. “I just . . . I liked him so much and I was scared you would hate him just because he was with me. And I didn’t want to lose you, Reed. I was just trying to give it time. I think I was hoping you would suggest we got together or something and I could be like, ‘We are! How awesome is that?’” My shoulders slouch. “I was stupid,” I whisper.

“Knowing what I know now, I probably would've suggested it.”

I blink. “Huh?”

“Is he there yet?” Reed asks, instead of elaborating. “I gave that asshole plenty of time. Of course, he was injured. That probably slowed him down a little.” Reed chuckles quietly to himself.

I’m frowning at the window. He was injured? Who was . . .

A light tapping sound behind me precedes my mother’s gentle, “Hey, sweetheart.”

I turn my head. She’s smiling in the doorway. Beaming, actually.

“I’m running out to the store to get some stuff for dinner. I’ll give you two some time.”

You two—me and Reed? Privacy, maybe. But time? We’re talking on the phone.

“Okay, Mom,” I tell her.

“Tell Mom her favorite child says hi.”

I ignore Reed and wave instead, watching my mother carry that beaming smile down the hallway.

“You are not her favorite. I am,” I argue. “Dad’s favorite, may . . .” the word dies on my tongue. CJ fills the doorway and leans his shoulder against the frame. I stare, mouth agape at his face.

His handsome, slightly mangled face.

“Oh, my God, you hit him?” I snap into the phone. I push to my feet and quickly round the bed.

“Ah, he’s there. Good.” Reed’s smile touches his voice. “And he said I could do it. Relax. But even if he didn’t, I was in my right. You both lied to me.”

I stop in front of CJ and touch his cheek, running my fingers below the swelling around his eye. “Are you okay?” I whisper.

CJ’s split lip twitches.

“My hand is a little sore . . .”

“Not you, you idiot,” I hiss into the line, gripping the phone harder. “God, I cannot believe you hit him, Reed. I’m hanging up now.”

“Hey, wait a second.”

I drop my hand from CJ’s face and glare at the carpet. “What?” I snap.

“He knows—if he hurts you, I’m coming after him,” Reed warns.

My lungs fill with air. I blink. Is this Reed’s approval?

“You . . . it’s okay that we’re, or that we were . . . um, I just, I need to know,” my lip quivers. “Can I love him? Is that okay?” I whisper.

I feel CJ’s hand push my hood down. He lifts my chin and holds my cheek as we look at each other.

“You fucking better love him,” Reed says, laughing a little. “The man got his ass kicked for you.”

My lips press together. “Am I not seeing a few bruises? It looks like you hit him, but I don’t know about getting his ass kicked . . .”

CJ’s mouth hardens. “Tell that motherfucker—”

I quickly disconnect the call before this escalates and Reed changes his mind. “Oops,” I say, showing CJ my screen. “Sorry. I accidentally hung up.”

He cocks his head, fighting a smile. His eyes slowly wander my face in that adoring way he does when we first wake up in the morning, as if it’s been days, or weeks, since he last saw me. Not hours.

“Does it hurt?” I ask, looking at the puffy skin over his cheekbone.

“Yeah.” He grabs my hand and forces it flat against his chest. “Right here. It’s fucking killing me.”