The first person Ade saw when he stepped through Ryan's front door was Miriam. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears that she began to wipe away with the back of her hand as she stormed in his direction. For a moment, he considered dashing upstairs, but she glanced up and he knew any chance of escape was well and truly gone.

"Good luck," Daniel whispered, squeezing Ade's shoulders. He then slipped past and offered Miriam a thin-lipped smile as he headed in the direction of the kitchen.

She stopped millimetres from Ade's face. In the dim lighting, her anger rang loud and clear. "We need to talk," she hissed between clenched teeth.

"I don't talk to snakes," Ade said, ready to brush past.

Miriam snorted. "I could say the same to you."

He took in her wide-legged stance, tight fists and twitchy eye. Noted the way she snarled at him, practically foaming at the mouth. This was primal, personal. It was also her death sentence. There was no way Wes would take her back when he heard about this. "Fine," Ade said, smothering his excitement beneath indifference, "you have five minutes."

Miriam turned on her heel and marched in the direction of the kitchen. Ade followed languidly behind, taking one small step to her three large ones. She blew through the house, decimating everything in her wake, drinks spilled and conversations falling to pieces. Ade apologised for her, shaking his head softly until they were alone. She stopped in the middle of the small garden and twirled around, arms crossed tightly against her chest.

"Well?" Ade tilted his head to the left. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

"For myself?" she asked, fists clenching all over again. "You're a fucking joke, you know that?"

"And you're a bitch."

"Is that the best you've got?" she scoffed. "You're a fucking liar, Ade. It's sad and pathetic."

"Who did I lie to?" he laughed almost in disbelief. She had some nerve throwing around accusations like that. For all he knew, her real name was Gina and she studied Geography.

"Wes," she said.

His smile dropped. "Why the fuck would I lie to Wes?"

"To fuck with me," Miriam said.

"You're delusional," Ade muttered beneath his breath while turning back to the house.

"No," Miriam shouted. She was standing in front of him in three quick steps. "You don't get to call me delusional. You don't get to call anyone delusional."

"What? And this isn't insane?" He gestured to her with a disgusted frown.

"I hurt you," she said, "and I'm sorry for that, but you don't get to ruin something good."

"Something good?" he snorted. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Did you tell Wes I didn't call?" she asked, her expression as blank as a fresh piece of paper, writing away the anger which propelled her only seconds before.

"What does it matter if I did?" Ade said, crossing his arms.

"You and I both know that Wes won't even consider fixing things if I don't at least try to apologise to your sorry ass."

"Oh?" Ade pressed a hand to his chest and feigned interest. "Is that what you were planning to do tonight? Ambush me and force me into accepting your bullshit apology like you did Kojo?"

"I didn't force him to do anything." Miriam turned and walked away, stopping abruptly and turning back to him. "Unlike you, Kojo can let shit go."

"It's been less than a week," Ade reminded her. He could see her and Wes in his mind's eye, a tangled web of limbs and deceit. "Am I supposed just say thank the lord you saw the light and let you and Wes ride off into the sunset?"

"That's not—"

"But it is," he said with a cold, callous laugh. "If I told Wes that you'd called, then you wouldn't be here, you wouldn't have tried to say sorry, you'd get some sort of twisted happy ending."

"So what? Is this revenge?"

He pursed his lips, considering, then shrugged. "Maybe," he said. "Would that be so bad?"

"And I'm fucking crazy?" Miriam was laughing now, the sound full and taunting. "You know what," she said with a soft shake of the head, "I don't have time for this shit."

"And I do?" Ade asked. "I'd have been good without you trying to teach me some sort of lesson. It's not like I needed it."

"Adedayo ladies and gentlemen." Miriam clapped slowly.

"I don't have time for this." Ade went to leave for the second time.

"I just have one more question," Miriam said to his retreating figure. He stopped but made no effort to turn. "If I'm a crazy bitch for getting revenge for all the girls you fucked over, why aren't you a crazy bitch for getting revenge on me?"

"It's not the same thing," Ade said decidedly.

"But isn't it the exact same thing?" Her tone made Ade want to cut his ears off and feed them to her. "I mean, an eye for an eye and shit," she said.

"Only I never hurt you in the first place."

"You still don't get it."

Ade finally turned to face her. "Don't get what?" he spat.

"I'm sorry for getting involved," Miriam said, her expression as earnest as her voice. "It was never my place; I should've just minded my business."

"Good, I'm glad we agree—"

"But make no mistake," she interrupted, eyes glinting beneath the moonlight. "I regret nothing."

It was like he'd found her and Wes all over again. That false sense of security being so viciously ravaged, leaving behind a person he didn't think he'd ever met.

"Well," he said, pushing down his rising anger in favour of some much-needed nonchalance, "I guess you can't blame me when I tell Wes you never apologised and you never will."

Miriam's hand slammed against his cheek, leaving a stinging path in its wake while she stormed off. He cracked his neck, shook his head, and pressed a cool hand to his cheek until the heat which rose from his neck simmered down. Fuckboy that he was, Ade had never been slapped, but as Miriam proved time and time again, there was a first time for everything.

When he returned to the house, Daniel hurried over and placed a hand on his back. "She left," he said in hushed whisper.

"Did everyone see?" Ade asked, glare skipping from person to person. He took Daniel's silence as a yes and stepped away, heading back to the front door. Miriam had officially ruined everything that was good and holy.

Halfway to freedom, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He jerked, turning so quickly he almost gave himself whiplash. "What the fuck man?"

Wes stood before him. Towered in fact, suddenly seeming his very tall height. "I'm going to ask you something," Wes said in a remarkably even tone, "and I want you to tell me the truth."

Ade pushed his shoulders back and flexed his jaw, the memory of Miriam's slap making it tingle all the more. "Sure man, I wouldn't lie to you."

Wasting no time, Wes asked if Miriam had called, to which Ade shook his head as he had in Whetherspoons. If he were anything, he was a man of his word. Wes could never know.

"Are you sure?" Wes asked.

"Yeah, I'd tell you if she had. Although between you and me, you're better off without her. I mean she slapped me, man."

"Yeah." Wes smiled faintly. "I saw that."

"She's crazy." Ade doubled down on the better without angle and aimed for the jugular. "If that's what she's willing to do to me, imagine what she'd do to you during an argument."

"She definitely shouldn't have hit you," Wes said. Only there was a but in there Ade didn't trust. "At the same time," he continued, "Miriam doesn't go around slapping people, and you two were clearly arguing. Hard."

"She refused to apologise," Ade explained.

Wes raised his chin slightly, somehow seeming all the taller for it. "She did?" he asked.

"Yeah, man. It was wild. I mean I don't need an apology, I'm over it, but it's the least she could do, you know."

"Yeah," Wes smiled. "Look man, thanks for telling the truth, but I think I should be going. I'm not really in the party mood."

"Yeah, do your thing."

Ade offered a hand and he and Wes hugged it out briefly before Wes left once and for all, leaving behind only the comforting knowledge that he and Miriam were no more. How could they be when she blew up in such a spectacular way?

***

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