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"Because you started it!" My voice came out louder than I meant it to. "You judged me first. You called me shallow for being on my phone, for posting on Instagram, for not caring about your basketball game. You made me feel like garbage for existing in a way that wasn't centered around you. So yeah, I'm pointing out the hypocrisy of you calling me shallow when your entire public persona is a lie."

Cam's face went blank. Completely blank. It was infinitely worse than an angry reaction would’ve been.

"Thanks for dinner, Isla," she said, her voice frighteningly flat. "I'm out."

She left without another word, the front door closing behind her with a controlled click that I wished had been a slam instead.

The silence in the dining room was deafening.

"Well," Isla said finally. "That went great."

I sat back down, my hands shaking, my chest tight. "I didn't know," I said to no one in particular. "I didn't realize she was… I wouldn't have said all that if I'd known."

"Wouldn't you?" Laine asked gently.

I looked at her. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you two are having the same fight about different things." Laine took a sip of her wine. "She judged you for being too open. You judged her for not being open enough. You're both wrong and you're both right."

"I don't—" I stopped. Shook my head. "I shouldn't have assumed. About her. I don't even know for sure if she's—"

"She is," Trish said quietly.

"Then why isn't she—" I stopped myself. "No. That's not my business. That's her choice."

"Yes," Mia said softly. "It is."

I picked up my wine glass and drained it. "I'm an asshole."

"You're not an asshole," Laine said. "You're hurt. And you're defending yourself the only way you know how. But Harper, listen, being closeted doesn't make someone a coward. And being out doesn't make you better than anyone else. It just means you made different choices based on different circumstances."

"I know that." I did know that. Intellectually, I knew that. But emotionally, I was still so angry at Cam for judging me, for making me feel small, for acting like I was the shallow one when she was the one living a lie.

Except it wasn't a lie. It was privacy she had every right to.

"I should go," I said, standing. "I'm clearly not fit for polite company tonight."

"Harper,” Mia started.

"No, I'm serious. I just… I need to go." I grabbed my purse. "Thanks for dinner, Isla. Trish. I'm sorry I keep ruining everything."

"You didn't ruin anything," Isla said, but she didn't sound convinced.

I made it to the front door, called a SHAU4 ride, and stood on the porch trying not to think about the way Cam had looked when I'd called her fake. The hurt in her eyes before the anger took over.

My phone buzzed. The SHAU4 driver was three minutes away.

I pulled up Instagram, looked at Cam's profile again. All those carefully curated posts. All that controlled perfection. Nothing real. Nothing personal.

Nothing that could be used against her.

And I'd judged her for it. Called her shallow. Called her fake.

Because I was angry. Because she'd hurt me first.

Because I wanted her to feel as small as she'd made me feel.

"Fuck," I said to the empty porch.