Page 47 of Stuffed

"Is it?" He stands too, running a hand through his hair. "Look, I just don't want my brother getting hurt."

"And I don't want my best friend being accused of manipulation." I cross my arms. "Ivy's feelings for Asher arereal. Yes, she had a crush in high school, but what's happening between them now is different. It's grown-up and genuine."

"You seem very sure about that."

"Because I know her. And if you weren't so wrapped up in your trust issues, you'd see how happy they make each other."

He moves toward me, expression softening slightly. "Can we not fight about this? I don't want to ruin our night."

That makes me even angrier. "Oh, I'm sorry. Is me defending my best friend's honor inconvenient for you?"

"Tessa—"

"No." I step back. "You don't get to question Ivy's intentions and then tell me to drop it because it might spoil your mood. That's not how this works."

"I'm just trying to protect my brother."

"No, you're projecting your own issues onto their relationship." I grab my purse. "And the fact that you can't see the difference between teenage fantasy and real adult feelings says more about you than it does about Ivy."

"Where are you going?"

"Home." I slip on my shoes. "Because suddenly I'm not in the mood to pretend everything's fine when you just insulted my best friend's character."

"I didn't mean?—"

"Yes, you did." I pause at the door. "And that's what bothers me most. You'd rather believe the worst in people than accept that sometimes feelings are just real. Sometimes they grow up. Sometimes they become something more than just a fantasy."

Understanding dawns in his eyes. "This isn't just about Ivy and Asher, is it?"

"Figure it out." I open the door. "And when you're ready to acknowledge that not everyone has ulterior motives—that some people are actually capable of genuine feelings—you know where to find me."

"Tessa, wait?—"

But I'm already gone, my heels clicking down his hallway as angry tears threaten to fall.

Because maybe he's not just questioning Ivy's feelings for Asher. Maybe he's questioning mine too. Maybe he still can't believe that the cheerleader's crush could grow into something real, something deep, something worth trusting.

My phone buzzes as I reach the lobby.

Zane

I'm sorry. You're right. About all of it.

I stare at the message, torn between anger and understanding. Because maybe we both have growing up to do. Maybe we both need to learn to trust that some feelings do evolve, do mature, do become something more than just teenage dreams.

The question is, are we both ready to take that leap of faith?

Only time will tell.

But one thing's for sure—I'm done letting him dismiss real feelings as mere fantasy, whether they're Ivy's or my own.

Because some things are worth fighting for. Some feelings are worth defending.

And sometimes, the fantasy grows into something far more beautiful than we ever imagined possible.

If we're brave enough to let it.

I make it halfway home before the tears finally spill over. The Uber driver politely pretends not to notice, turning up his radio to give me privacy. Chicago's streets blur past my window, holiday lights twinkling mockingly through my tears.

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