“Brynn went on a couple dates with him freshman year,” Chris explains, lowering the book to his lap. “Dude bragged to his friends about bagging her, even though he never did. It’s ancient history.” Chris waves a hand through the air. “But whatisn’tancient history,” he says staring straight at me, and I know what’s coming, “is Tatum shagging someone that isn’t you.”
“Don’t fucking say that,” I snap.
My chest pinches, and I bring a hand to my sternum, trying to massage away the ache.
Is she . . .?
God, please tell me she’s not.
I shut the thought down instantly. Not only because I’m praying like hell it’s not true, but also to protect my sanity, because I’m ninety-nine percent sure Tate is a virgin, and if she’s going to allow someone to take her first, it sure as hell better not be Ethan fucking Ken doll White.
Chris grins at the scowl on my face. “Triggered much?” he asks, and I glare at him so hard, it’s a miracle he doesn’t spontaneously combust.
“Listen, last we spoke, you were determined to tell her how you felt,” Damon jumps in. “So, did you?”
All eyes turn to me as I sit there, jaw locked, my mind a dangerous place as a fictional montage of Tatum with Ethan in the sack flashes through my head like some fresh kind of torture.
Eventually, I set my coffee cup on the table in front of me and rest my elbows on my knees with a sigh, knowing they won’t let this drop until I’ve cleaved out my heart and placed it on a platter for them to dissect. It’s their schtick to overshare and offer solutions to the world’s problems.
“I went to her apartment Sunday night to tell her,” I say into the silence.
“Smart. Coming off a win on Saturday. You were pumped. Ready to win your girl. How did it go?” Damon asks.
I grind my teeth together before barely managing, “She told me she’s transferring to Michigan State next semester to be with him.”
Jace lets out a low whistle. West and Damon wince, while Chris hisses, “Shit.”
“Yeah. Shit,” I confirm.
“But you still told her, right? What did she say?” Damon says.
“Hell no, I didn’t tell her.” I huff. “What would be the point? So I can look like the pathetic asshole who waited too long to speak up?” I shake my head. “I had my chance, and I blew it. I should’ve told her long ago. If I would’ve stopped fucking denying it.” I scrub my calloused palms over my face as I add, “You should’ve seen her face when she talked about him. She was fucking glowing, going on and on about how she has everything she could ever want with me as her bestie and him as the perfect boyfriend.”
My stomach hurts just thinking about it.
“Told you to use the Playbook,” Chris chimes in. “You know, it’s not too late if you want to change tactics.”
“No,” the four of us say at the same time.
“What do you have against it, huh?” he asks, glancing between the four of us. “It has a one-hundred-percent effectiveness rate.”
“You’re the only one who’s ever used it,” Damon points out.
“Thank you,” I say, motioning toward our QB.
“And . . .?” Chris asks.
Jace just blinks at him like he’s stupid before turning his attention to me. “Anyway . . . what are you going to do now? You can’t just let her leave without ever telling her how you feel.”
I shove a hand through my hair and tug at the roots. “You don’t think I know that?”
“So, what’s the problem?”
I sigh, wondering how I can explain it to them in a way they’ll understand. “What if I tell her, and she still leaves?”
There’s only one thing I can think of that would be worse than telling Tate how I feel and having her turn me down, and that’s if I tell her and our friendship falls apart.
Everyone falls silent, my words dropping like a rock into the void.
