Page 30 of Don't Puck Your Best Friend’s Girl

Our eyes meet, and something in my chest loosens slightly. She looks like I feel — exhausted, hungover, haunted. Her hair is piled on top of her head in a messy bun, stray strands framing her face. She's wearing a light pink pajama set, the outline of her breasts visible beneath the thin fabric where she's clearly not wearing a bra. Even like this — especially like this — she's beautiful.

"What are you doing here?" she hisses, eyes wide with panic. "Are you crazy?"

"I need to talk to you," I say, ignoring the knowing looks Mina and Chloe exchange. "About Byron."

Saylor pales visibly, clutching her mug tighter. She glances at her roommates, who are gawking at me. Chloe especially, so I assume she must be single.

"Okay," she mutters, rising from the couch. "But make it quick."

I follow her down a short hallway to a bedroom at the end. She pushes the door open, and the smell hits me immediately — the unmistakable sour tang of vomit poorly masked by air freshener. She notices my reaction and flushes.

"Sorry," she mumbles, embarrassed. "Rough morning."

"It's fine," I say, closing the door behind us. The room is small, dominated by a queen bed with no sheets or blankets. A damp towel hangs over a chair, and her clothes from last night lie in a heap on the floor. The lingerie I fucked her in. I swallow hard, forcing my eyes away.

"Have you talked to Byron?" she asks, sinking onto the edge of her bed.

"No," I admit. "But he's been calling me since 6:30 this morning. Did you talk to him?"

She closes her eyes briefly, pain washing over her features. "I drunk-dialed him last night…and I told him I hooked up with someone."

The floor seems to tilt beneath my feet. "You what?"

"I don't remember doing it," she says quickly, defensive. "I woke up to a million texts and missed calls from him. Apparently, I called him at 2 AM and confessed."

"Did you tell him it was me?" I ask, my voice strained.

She shakes her head. "No. I talked to him again this morning, and he was pissed. I mean livid. He asked who I hooked up with, but I didn't say. He said that I called it asecret."

Relief floods me, immediately followed by a fresh wave of anxiety. "He's going to ask me about it. He'll expect me to know what happened at the party."

"So, lie," she says simply. "Tell him you don't know anything."

I run a hand through my still-damp hair, pacing the small space between her bed and dresser. I imagine lying to him, and my gut fucking twists. I was actually hoping for the opposite here.

"It's not that simple. Jake already knows something happened between us. People saw us talking."

"So? Talking isn't hooking up."

"They saw us walk into the bedroom, and they fucking timed it, Say. They all know how long we were in that room. There's no lying out of this. Byron's my best friend," I say, trying hard not to panic, but boy, am I fucking panicking. "If I talk to him, if he sees me, he'll know I'm hiding something. He knows me very well. There is no way out of this."

"We can't just tell him," she argues. "Do you have any idea what this would do to him? Finding out I slept with his best friend two days after I broke up with him?"

My phone vibrates in my pocket — another call from Byron. I pull it out, showing her the screen. I think I'm shaking. I think I could actually punch myself in the face at what I've done.

"See? He's not going to stop."

Panic flashes across her face. "Don't answer it. Not here."

"I can't keep avoiding him," I say, letting the call go to voicemail. "And I can't lie to him, Saylor. Not about this."

"Why not?" she demands, getting overly upset. "It was one night. A mistake. It doesn't have to mean anything."

The words sting more than they should. A mistake? I wipe my face, wondering if she actually thinks it's a mistake, or if she's just calling it that because this girl has a temper.

"If you're going to do something, take accountability for it," I seethe, anger rushing through my veins. Soon, I'll start seeing red if she can't admit what we've gotten ourselves into. She didn't seem to think fucking me was a mistake while I was inside of her. "I can't lie."

Her expression drops like I've fed her bullshit. "So, you can cheat, but you can't fucking lie, Cade?" she retorts, eyes flashing with that hatred I know so well.

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