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“Uh, you should never have seen that. I’m so sorry.”

“She'll never want you now.” Mirth dances in Rachel’s eyes.

I push myself off her and grab my clothes. She laughs like this was the best kind of prank.

“Oh, relax. She'll get over it. We'll just have to remember to lock the door next time.”

“Oh. There will never be a next time.” I have never felt so revolted with myself.

“So now what?”

“You’re right,” I answer bluntly. “I have to end things with her.”

This gets her to look at me.

I yank on my pants and shove on my shoes, not bothering with the socks. I grab the rest of my belongings and walk toward the door, needing to escape this house.

Rachel watches, sprawled naked on her side—pure amusement on her face.

“Should I still wait until after her birthday?” I hate that I asked this. But I know this is Emma’s life Rachel’s messing with. She’s the reason I can’t leave.

Emma groans. “I don’t know.” She looks at me like she’s trying to read my mind. My motives. If I’m being honest and sincere. When she doesn’t look away, I begin to wonder what else she’s searching for. “Thanks for the ride.”

“Remember, you tell my secret. I’ll tell yours. She won’t believe you. And I always find a way to make her believe me.”

I glower with my back to her. I fucking hate this woman.

Emma’s about to grab her backpack when she suddenly bursts out, “My sweater.”

“Huh?”

“What were you doing with my sweater?” she clarifies, putting me on the spot again.

“I found it on the chair on the front porch when I was leaving for work a while ago.” Truth.

“I thought it was Rachel’s. I’d honestly forgotten I had it.” Lie.

“Oh.” Her cheeks redden.

“See you at my birthday party next week?”

I slam the door behind me.

When I get home, I immediately shower and scream at the fucked-up disaster I got myself into.

Emma pauses again before opening the door. This time, something in the distance catches her attention. I peer over her shoulder to find Evan a few rows away, standing beside his sporty BMW, and a blonde getting out of the passenger seat.

“Are you okay?” I ask but already know the answer. Her rigid body tells me everything. Is he cheating on her? I don’t think so. But whoever this other girl is, she’s messing with them. I knew a girl like that too. Guess they’re in everyone’s story.

“Emma?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Her voice is gravelly with emotion.

“Emma.” When she looks back, I confess. “She’s not the reason I decided to stay.”

By the time I get to work, there’s a text from Emma.

Emma: Wait til after her birthday. And don’t worry about me.