The fight hung in the air like smoke after a fire. I couldn’t look at him. Not after those words — *I f**k every p***y I see* — even if he’d tried to walk them back with that half-assed confession about Sophia being nothing. My chest felt tight, the kind of ache that went deeper than jealousy. It touched every old scar my dad left when he walked out, every fear that I was just temporary to people who were supposed to stay.
I shoved past him, grabbing my sketchbook like it could shield me. “I need air. Don’t follow me.”
Of course he did.
I made it as far as the backyard before his hand caught my wrist, spinning me around under the fading evening light. The pool glowed behind us, mocking me with memories of nights when it felt like we were the only two people in the world.
“Lila, stop.”
