“Oh, please.” She throws her hands up. “Maybe at the beginning it was fake. Fine. I’ll give you that. But by the end? Yeah, no. Absolutely not.”
“There were no feelings,” I insist, jaw tight. “Not for me. Not for Ryan.”
“Liar.”
My head snaps toward her. “What?”
“I know my brother,” she says, stepping closer. “And I saw the way he acted around you or looked at you. He has never looked at anyone like that. Ever.”
I feel my blood racing through my body. “You’re reading too much into it,” I mutter.
“No, you’re just refusing to readanything,” she shoots back. “He’s been walking around all week like someone stole his soul. You think that’s because of afakebreakup?”
I swallow hard.
“And you—” she taps a finger lightly against my chest “—are not exactly convincing either.”
“I don’t have feelings for him.”
“Maddy. Come on.” Her voice softens. “You don’t have to freak out about it,” she says. “But don’t pretend it was nothing. I saw you two. That wasn’t nothing.”
Something tight twists in my chest. All the feelings I’ve been shoving down start pushing back up.
“I can’t like him,” I whisper. “It wasn’t supposed to happen.”
Bailey doesn’t hesitate. “But it did.”
Silence stretches between us and her eyes widen suddenly, realization hitting all at once. “Oh my God,” she breathes. “You’re in love with him.”
“I—”
Her phone starts ringing. She leans down to her bag and reaches for her phone. She glances at the screen and a slow, knowing smirk spreads across her face.
Oh no. I already know who that is.
She lifts the phone to her ear, eyes still locked on me like she’s watching a live drama unfold.
“Hi,brother,” she says sweetly.
Through the tiny speaker, I can faintly hear his voice. He sounds like he is in a rush. “Bailey… is Maddy still with you?”
My stomach flips.
Bailey’s grin widens. “Yes, Maddy is still here,” she says in a teasing sing-song tone. Then, more casually, “Are you driving?”
“Yeah,” he says. A small pause. “Can you give the phone to her? She’s not picking up her phone.”
That makes sense. My phone is still in my bag. But that’s not the problem. The problem iswhyhe’s calling. A nervous heat crawls up my neck as Bailey taps the screen and switches to speaker. Then she just hands the phone to me.
I stare at it for half a second too long before finally speaking. “Hi,” I say, the word coming out small and awkward.
“Hey.” His voice is softer now.
Silence stretches between us—long and awkward, very awkward—the only sound the low rumble of his engine humming through the phone.
I slowly turn my head toward Bailey, eyes wide.
“Help me,” I mutter.
