"Oh, God," I muttered. I felt sick.

Kara straightened with shock. "What?"

I blinked, remembering, of course, that she was there. "Just ... that's horrible." I clasped my hands on the table. "You said he knocked her up?"

I didn't know much about Kara, but I did know that she loved to talk. As long as I kept feeding her with questions, she would basically distract herself. Actually, I found that trait sort of ... endearing.

That was my strategy as we walked back to campus together before we parted at a fork in the path: let her talk. I hugged her and vowed to spend the night tucked in with blankets, ramen, and Bridget Jones before I watched her disappear around the corner.

It wasn't until I entered the auditorium that I allowed what she'd told me to resettle in my mind. Some of my initial shock had worn off, and I could see a little more clearly than before.

Sure, Ruby and Pearl hadn't been gossiping about James. It wasn't James who they said had a reputation for ghosting girls and breaking hearts. Which meant that one of the reasons why I'd grown wary of him was unfounded, that the foundations of my distrust were molded in a misunderstanding.

But that didn't undermine everything else.

It didn't undermine the fact that James slept with Joanna. That he let her into his room on the same night that he confessed his feelings for me. On the same night that I confessed mine for him.

One out of three red flags had turned out to be a herring, but that didn't change anything. The result was still the same.

James still hurt me after he promised that he wouldn't.

On Friday, I found a new spot in the library.

It was still on the Arts floor, still somewhere that reeked of mahogany and every teenage girl's Oscar Wilde fantasy. It was dark and moody, the epitome of me. It was beyond perfect, and I wondered why I'd never sought it out before.

I'd only been there for ten minutes or so when my illusion of solace was shattered by incoming footsteps. I glanced up—more so instinctually than for any other reason—my eyes instantly crashing into a familiar gaze.

My fingers tightened around my pen.

Dex stared back at me.

The only audible sound was the exhale of our breath, both of us completely frozen, mulling over the question of what to do next. But there was no avoiding the fact that we had seen each other. That we were continuing to stare, continuing to test the air between us.

As far as I could tell, it wasn't dense.

He inched his face upward in an awkward nod-solute type of thing.

I mirrored it, probably looking just as silly.

But I was terrified to speak, terrified of what I'd say or what he'd say. So much time had passed since our argument, and we'd been so awful to one another.

But I had to apologize. Because Dex was innocent, really. He only lashed out at me because he was hurt, and while I did the same thing, it was me who betrayed him in the first place.

"I'm—" I started to apologize, my words tangling with his. We'd both tried to speak at the same time. Because apparently, things could get more awkward.

But he didn't appear upset. Instead, his lips spread into a small smile. It was only when I saw his that I realized that mine had, too.

He cleared his throat, stepping forward to take the seat opposite mine. "I'm sorry. I—"

"No, Dex. You don't need to apologize. You were right. I should have told you ..." I reached for his hand, placing mine on top. "Everything. I should have told you everything. I'm sorry."

A moment of silence fell upon us, my apology hanging in the air. I was prepared for him not to accept it. Perhaps that was what I deserved.

But then I felt his fingers loop through mine, his other hand coming on top to sandwich my hand in between his. His touch was warm, as warm as the affection pouring from his puppy-dog eyes.

"Still, those things I said ..." His voice trailed off, just as mine had, his words coming out just as remorseful. "I didn't mean them. Of course I didn't mean them, Mads. I was just so angry. I've never been angry like that before. It's like I saw red."

"Yeah, thanks to me." I poured my cocktail of emotions into a light laugh, rolling my eyes at myself. "I let the animal out of the cage."

"And what a ferocious animal I can be."

My laugh compounded three-fold, his combined with mine earning us a disciplinary glare from the librarian stacking shelves nearby. We reclaimed our hands to cover our mouths, stifling the hysteria before it set in.

When I was sure that I could meet his gaze without cracking up again, I found him peering back at me quizzically. The sparkle in his eyes still shone bright, but a somber force was pulling at his features.

"I just ..." he took a deep breath, his confusion manifesting into a shrug. "I can't believe that you faked all of that. Being our friend."

His words left his mouth and snaked around my heart, squeezing me with a different sensation than I'd ever felt before. But, still, they didn't hit me as truth.

All along, I thought that was what I'd been doing. Faking it. Lying, pretending, playing the part of a friend because I had something to gain. But it took losing them—all of them—for me to realize that wasn't the case at all.

I kept trying to push Holly and Dex together despite both of them telling me over and over again that things weren't working between them. I convinced myself that I was doing it for my assignment, that it was only my grade that I cared about. But that wasn't true. The truth was, I was scared that without Holly, I wouldn't have anything to tie me to the guys anymore. I was scared that without Holly, they wouldn't need me. That they wouldn't want to be my friend.

Despite my better judgment, I had given my heart away. Not just to James, but to Dex and Noah as well.

"I didn't," I murmured. My contradiction caused a cynical edge to taint his smile, but I dismissed it instantly. "Maybe at first. It wasn't just you guys—I was trying to push everyone away. But ..." I frowned, narrowing my eyes as pieces of the puzzle slotted into place. The puzzle of how I'd so horribly justified my selfish actions. "I liked you when I met you—in the hall. I liked all of you, even if I didn't realize it straight away. I felt something that I hadn't in a long time. Belonging, maybe. Maybe just a sense of ... change. And that scared me, because I didn't know if I was ready for it. Ready to let people in, or close that last chapter of my life." I picked at a spot of peeled wood on the table, watching the dark surface splinter under my fingers. "So when that assignment came along, it was oddly perfect. The perfect way to give my heart what it wanted—love, companionship, you—while also bending to the will of my fear."

His eyes were murky when I met them, probably just as clouded as mine.

"I could keep you close," I explained, "but not too close. Not so close that I risked getting hurt again. Not if I told myself that it wasn't real, despite my heart screaming that something so good couldn't be fake."

I didn't know how much about Eli and Lola Dex knew, didn't know how much—if anything—James had told him. But Dex was always good at reading people. His gentle, tender heart wasn't a flaw, just like mine wasn't. Rather, it was his strength. That's what my mother had been trying to tell me in the parlor. Dex and I could see people, feel them, even when they didn't want us to.

He saw me in that library, saw something akin to authenticity beaming from my eyes or heard it in my voice. He nodded simply. He accepted my confession. Most of all, he didn't pry.

But then his lips pulled into that adorably mischievous grin—lopsided and coy and so very him.

"You liked us?" he teased with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

Another bittersweet laugh nagged at my throat, and I let it out with a shrug. "What can I say? You're a charming bunch."

Dex cupped his hands around his chin, just like he'd done so many times before. I rolled my eyes again, backing away from the warmth and vulnerability that shielded us from the rest of the room. But when I glanced back, his stare was just as inquisitive. I could tell that there was something else lurking behind his veneer, that he wasn't quite done with his interrogation.

I took a steady breath, bracing myself. I was committed to providing him with whatever answers he needed.

"Why won't you answer his calls, Mads?"

Except for that one.

"Dex ..."

"No." He tilted his head sadly, shaking the smile from his lips. "You've got us all stumped. I mean, you know we were never great at understanding women."

I arched an eyebrow, but he refrained from following up on his joke. Instead, he leaned forward.

"You really hurt him."

"Are you kidding me?" I scoffed bitterly. "I hurt him?"

"Well, yeah." Dex furrowed his brow with bewilderment. As if I'd questioned the existence of gravity. "He adores you. You must see that."

The words pulled at my heartstrings, just like all pretty words did. Because it seemed that my heart was a sucker for sweet nothings.

I recoiled from the flattery I felt, clenching my jaw to keep the emotions at bay. Dex was James' friend. Of course he was going to go to bat for him. But that didn't mean that I couldn't throw the truth right back.

"So Joanna was ... what?" I asked.

His face crumpled up like paper as soon as the name left my mouth.

"Joanna?" he queried sourly. His eyes glazed over, and he shook his tilted head. "Why do you keep doing that? Bringing up Joanna? With James in the hall, with Noah last week—"

"Come on, Dex."

"What?" he asked again, his eyes wide and clueless.

I threw my pointed gaze back at him, cocking my head with incredulity. I simply couldn't believe that between the three of them, they still hadn't caught onto the fact that I knew. That I saw Joanna in James's room with my very own eyes, that I recognized the shirt hugging her bare body. How could they be clueless enough not to realize that the jig was up?

But Dex's confusion didn't buckle under my stare. Rather, he looked more puzzled than ever. I'd always had to spell everything out with those guys. With Dex, in particular. I don't know why I thought this would be any different.

I took a deep breath, an ache rousing in my chest. "I went by your room on Sunday morning. I was going to tell you about Holly. About everything. I got coffees for us and ..."

My throat closed up before I could even contemplate my next words. It was like my body knew the pain that reliving that moment was going to cause me. It was trying to protect me, but it was only prolonging the sting.

I exhaled slowly, regaining control. "Joanna answered the door."

Dex's features contorted with understanding, the muddled veil lifting from over his eyes. "Oh, no. No, Mads, you have it all wrong—"

"Dex, please. Don't lie to me."

"I'm not—"

"The writings on the wall. I saw her, spoke to her. She was naked except for his stupid shirt. You can't get him out of this one—"

"Mads, just listen, okay?" His hands were clenched over the table, his body jolting across the small space between us. But it wasn't anger that propelled him. It was something much more akin to desperation. "Yes, you're right. Joanna went to see James—"

"Thank you," I muttered sarcastically, focusing on the small victory of his confirmation and not the fact that it splintered my heart.

Dex continued as if I hadn't spoken, his tone as urgent as before. "He woke up to her in his bed, waving coffee under his nose, wearing his clothes. He flipped. He kicked her out, shirt and all. He called her a psycho and told her to stop texting him. Ask Shay and Aubrey from across the hall. They saw the whole thing."

I blinked once. Twice. My mouth was still agape with the memory of dissent, my brow now the one knitting with confusion.

"No," I whispered. It couldn't be true—

"Yes," Dex insisted.

Oh, no. No no no ...

"He had no idea that she was there, Mads. He was passed out cold when she snuck in. At first, he thought ..." Dex's sentence was left unfinished, his urgency melting into hesitation. His mouth floundered before closing, as though he thought better of whatever he was about to tell me.

But he'd said too much, and I needed to hear more. Curiosity was itching at my skin, and I needed to know the words that were dancing on his tongue.

"What?" I managed to utter.

He found my gaze again. Sensed my longing. He shook his head slowly, already scolding himself for what he was about to say.

"He thought she was you. Hoped she was you."

The warmth pooling between us infiltrated my chest. I felt it rise with new energy, with something other than hurt or betrayal. "He told you that?"

Dex laughed, the sound low and gravelly. "Of course. We're best friends."

"You made up?"

"Of course we made up. We rip each other to shreds sometimes." Dex flashed a tilted smirk. "But we always make up."

I pressed my nails into my palm. I had to. I had to stop myself from falling. My mind was warring with my heart, both of them lurching in opposite directions. Rational Madison was shouting, but hopeful Madi was ready to take flight.

"Madison, the guy has been crazy about you since he first saw you in the hall." Mischief pulled at his brow. "Who do you think asked Noah to call you over?"

With that, Madi won.

Noah hadn't called me over for Dex's benefit. He'd called me over for James'. James hadn't only taken an interest in me after we'd met. His interest in me was the whole reason we had.

I shook my head, a smile pulling at my pout. I'd been walking through those halls feeling broken, dealing with the fact that my entire world had shattered in a matter of days. But at my worst, someone had seen me. Someone had still decided that I was worthy of their energy. Of their heart.

For the first time in a long time, the tears brimming in my eyes weren't caused by heartache.

But the little voice in my head pierced through the rays of hope, as it always did. Like a dark cloud, it showered me with the truth.

James didn't betray me. He didn't do anything except be there for me, even after I'd told him the real reason why I'd been helping Dex. I'd thanked him by flipping out on him in front of the entire hall, accusing him of things he didn't understand because he had no reason to understand them. Because he hadn't done anything wrong.

I hurt him. And then I ignored every one of his attempts to reach out. To explain. I hurt him even more.

Guilt overwhelmed me. I threw my head in my hands, muffling a groan in my palms.

"I freaked out for no reason."

Opposite me, Dex chuckled. "It appears so."

I tore my face from my shield, glaring pitifully at that amused tug of his lips. He chewed it away, replacing his amusement with sympathy. At that moment, I couldn't help but feel closer to him than I ever had before. As if, in some strange way, our fight had only strengthened our bond.

But it was more than that. Because the walls were down between us, and my motives had been uncovered. We didn't have Holly tying us together anymore. And yet, he was still there.

"Look," Dex said, breaking the silence. "James is a sensitive guy, and you really hurt him."

His words stung, though I could tell that he didn't mean for them to. But the pain wilted when Dex reached for my hands, clasping them in his as I'd done moments before. That sly twinkle was back in his eye—one that told me that James would kill him for saying what he was about to say.

"But I've known him for a really long time," he uttered. "And I've never seen him look at anyone the way that he looks at you."

I took a sharp breath, keeping the tears at bay. It was so unlike me to indulge in vulnerability or to face my emotions, let alone acknowledge them. I was used to pushing everything away, to pretending that I didn't feel anymore. But sitting with Dex, after hearing everything that he'd said, I realized how tired it made me. It didn't make me any stronger at all. It only made me crumble under my own lies.

I'd fallen for James. I hadn't planned to, I hadn't wanted to. I certainly wasn't ready to. But I had, and if what his best friend was telling me was true, then some part of him had fallen for me as well. He cared for me in a way that I couldn't explain, in a way that I felt like I truly didn't deserve. I'd taken that affection and thrown it back in his face, my trust issues processing random information and running with the worst possible scenario every time.

I'd lost him. Not because he hurt me, but because I'd hurt him.

Maybe that was what I deserved. But that didn't mean that I couldn't at least try to make things right. That I couldn't take his pain from him the way that I wished someone would take mine.

I knew what I had to do. I knew that it was going to hurt. But for the first time since my dad died, I wasn't afraid to feel.

Usually, I would share a gif. But I stumbled upon this on Instagram and, I mean ...

Also—I don't want this story to end. I really, really don't want this story to end. One more chapter, guys 😢