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I chuckled to myself. “That’s cute.”

“Would you just fucking stop?”

“Stop what?”

“Acting like every fucking thing I say to you is an attack.”

I straightened. “You mean like telling me to shut the fuck up when somebody’s giving me shit for being gay?”

“I told you to stop fighting with a teenager.”

“Same difference.”

“No, it isn’t,” he insisted.

“Maybe not to you.”

Dee’s face hardened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

I should’ve ended it there, but I didn’t. “It means… you always did have an easier time blaming everyone around you for what you can’t stop yourself from seeing in the mirror—oh! Wait! I almost forgot! I’m sure the amount of fucking pussy you throw onto your dick will absolutely make you magically straight someday.”

Darius just stared at me, and I immediately knew I’d gone too far.

You know what? Fucking good. Maybe that was exactly what he needed.

“You haven’t changed at all,” he said.

I smiled wider. “Neither have you.”

His voice was colder now. “Somebody says one thing you don’t like and suddenly you’re the loudest person in the fucking room. But news flash, Alvin! Being loud doesn’t hide the fact I’m not the only one who hates the person they see in the mirror.”

Ouch, that fucking hurt. But I laughed harder anyway.

Darius saw through it… and the tears. But it was too late.

“At least I don’t run away.” Fuck you.

His face changed, his eyes flicking behind me. Towards the cabin. “So that’s what this is about.”

“No.”

“You threw my clothes in the lake because I slept outside.”

“I threw your clothes in the lake because you’re a prick, remember? Thought we already agreed on that.”

“You were pissed that I didn’t sleep inside.”

“I don’t give a shit where you sleep, D’Angelo.”

“Bullshit.”

I stepped closer, getting in his face. “You want honesty?”

“Please.”

“You sleeping outside pissed me off,” I admitted.

“Why?”