The locker room is humid, loud, and reeks of cologne and disinfectant. I push the door open and immediately regret it.
Whistling. Laughter. A few muttered, “damn”s.
A handful of guys are standing around in towels, and before I can even say anything, someone catcalls, “Hey, sweetheart, wrong locker room.”
“Shut up,” another voice says, and it is unmistakably Miles.
He’s standing by the lockers, towel slung low around his hips, hair damp, droplets sliding down his chest. He looks up, freezes when he sees me. For a second, something like surprise flickers in his eyes before it hardens into irritation.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” he snaps.
“Looking for you,” I shoot back.
That gets everyone’s attention. The chatter dies. Somewhere behind him, Jamie turns. It’s the first time I’ve seen him since… before everything. He’s in a black T-shirt, sleeves shoved up his forearms, and he looks like he hasn’t slept in days. Our eyes meet for half a heartbeat before he looks away.
“Can we talk?” I ask. “Both of you.”
Miles’s jaw works. “You shouldn’t be in here.”
“Then tell me where.”
He exhales, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “Wait outside.”
“No.” My voice cracks through the silence. “I’m not waiting.”
The room goes quiet enough that I can hear the drip of a shower in the corner. Miles looks at Jamie like he’s silently begging him to do something. Jamie just crosses his arms. Finally, Miles grabs his clothes and stalks past me, muttering something under his breath. Jamie follows.
Outside, the air feels colder. They’re both half-dressed, pissed, and entirely too tall for this narrow hallway. Miles pulls on his shirt, glaring at me.
“I can’t even get dressed, Chloe?” he demands. “You can’t just—”
“You can’t just go around deciding things for me!” I snap. “You don’t get to fix what you broke.”
Jamie’s brow furrows. “What are you talking about?”
I throw my hands up. “Oh, come on. The whole campus knows Bella and Miles are suddenly back together, and magically everyone’s decided to stop hating me. You think I can’t do the math?”
Miles’s jaw clenches. “You should be thanking me.”
“Thanking you?” My laugh comes out sharp. “You made it worse! Now they think you’re doing me favors, that I need you to save me.”
Jamie steps between us, his tone flat but dangerous. “You both need to calm down before someone hears—”
“No!” I cut him off. “You don’t get to play mediator, Jamie. You don’t get to stand there pretending you’re the sane one when you both—” I stop myself before the rest spills out, before the words when you both touched me make it real again. My throat tightens. “Whatever game this is, I’m done. Leave me out of it.”
Miles’s expression shifts, something wounded flashing before he shutters it. “Game? You think this is a game?”
“What else would you call it?” I demand. “One minute, you’re ignoring me, the next, you’re sleeping with me. Was this some kind of bet? Which one of you I’d fuck? Because that’s fucked up. You’re fucked up. What the hell is wrong with you?”
Jamie’s voice cuts through. “You were a consenting adult, Chloe.” His tone is low, almost apologetic, but it stings worse than if he’d yelled. “We all were. There was no bet. You don’t get to rewrite what happened.”
I glare at him. “I’m not rewriting anything. I’m saying it meant something—to me. And maybe that was stupid, but—”
Miles interrupts, voice sharp. “But what?”
“But I’m done feeling like a pawn in whatever sick thing you two have going on.”
Neither of them moves. Jamie looks away first, muttering something I can’t catch. Miles takes a step toward me, the air between us tightening. “You really think I wanted this?” he says quietly. “You think I planned any of it?”
