Never perfume.
Just Stella.
And that alone is enough to make me want to put my fist through something.
“You really doing this?” I ask.
She stares at me.
“Doing what?”
I laugh once without humor.
“Acting like that moment at your game yesterday didn’t happen?”
A flicker crosses her face.
There.
That.
The small crack.
The proof that she felt it too.
“That’s rich,” she says. “Coming from you. Who are you into? Her or me?”
I lean in closer.
“I should choose her… she’s sweet and your nothing but spice on your best day.”
Her mouth parts.
Closes.
Then opens again.
For one second, I think maybe she’ll finally do it. Finally cut all the way through the bullshit and tell me something real instead of circling it like it’s too bright to touch.
Instead she says, “Screw off, Vale.”
I let out a slow breath through my nose.
“You really want to talk about Isa?”
“I want to talk about you using her like a placeholder while your head’s still stuck on me.”
That lands.
Hard.
Because she’s not entirely wrong.
And because I hate that she knows it.
My jaw goes tight.
“This from the girl who led me on only to decide I was too much trouble to deal with?”
