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18

When I show up at Charlotte’s house Sunday morning, I’m met with a disaster. Apparently, Jake went to sleep without even attempting to clean up the mess from the night before. We would’ve volunteered to help clean up, since we were all here, and even Julian came by after helping his dad with work, but she told us not to worry about it.

“Don’t mind the mess. Jake’s so lazy he said he hired some people to come clean later today,” she says, closing the door behind me.

We head upstairs, stepping over discarded Solo cups and dried up spills, and avoiding glass bottles. Charlotte closes the door to her room and we sit cross-legged on her bed.

“So.” I don’t even know how to start. “Do you remember anything from last night?”

“Oh, you mean the whole thing about my best friend since elementary school calling me a slut and trying to go through my phone and control my life? Yeah, I remember.”

“I’m sorry that happened, Char. It was a shitty thing for him to do. We probably should’ve intervened but I’m glad you stood your ground.”

“No, I’m glad no one stepped in. It was time for me to say something. He can’t turn violent every time I’m with a boy and try to make my decisions for me. Just because I don’t feel the same way as he does, it doesn’t give him the right to control me.”

I think that’s the first time Charlotte’s blatantly stated that she doesn’t like Chase. She usually says she doesn’t think she does, or she doesn’t know how to feel. But this is signed and sealed. She does not like Chase as more than a friend, and I’m pretty sure after what he pulled last night, there’s nothing he could do to change her mind.

“How do you feel about him as a friend?” I ask. They’ve been friends for ten years; it would suck if their friendship ended like that.

She hugs a pillow to her chest. “Until he realizes what he did and apologizes, I don’t want anything to do with him. No one has the right to go through my social media and censor what I can and can’t post. No one’s taking my free will, even over something this stupid. It’s the principle of it.”

I understand what she means. I can’t even have social media because of a man and it sucks. Charlotte’s a free person and can do whatever she wants, and no one should be telling her what to do with her own life, especially not someone motivated by anger and jealousy.

My eyes zero in on the spot where she smashed her phone, and I feel a smile form as the memory shapes in my mind. “Was that really necessary, though? Now you don’t have a phone.”

“Yes. I made my point, didn’t I?”

We look at each other and start laughing, replaying the incident over and over.

“I already miss my phone, though,” she says eventually. “Do you mind if I use yours to look at the videos I posted last night? I want to see them again.”

I hand her my phone and we download the S-Live Time app since I don’t have it, and she logs into her account to watch the videos now saved to her profile.

“Wow, Marcus is so hot. I can’t believe Chase screwed that up for me. I never cockblock him when he’s with whatever girl he’s with!”

“You’re not madly in love with him,” I state as she hands me my phone to watch the videos.

“If I was madly in love with someone, I wouldn’t be hooking up with people left, right, and center like he does.”

It’s sad when you think about it. Chase never told Charlotte about his feelings because he didn’t want to ruin their friendship, but in not telling her, he ended up ruining it anyway.

I watch the videos again, and they seem harmless enough. She’s singing and laughing with Marcus and the kiss barely lasts one whole Mississippi. Chase’s reaction was definitely not a reasonable response to the video she posted.

As we’re analyzing the videos, my phone rings, and Chase’s name pops up. We drop the phone on the bed and stare at it like it just came to life and is cussing us out.

“Should I . . . ?” I hesitate.

“I’m not here,” she says, promptly answering and putting it on speaker, looking at me expectantly.

I clear my throat. “Hello?”

His voice is clear through the phone. “Hey, Amelia. Have you talked to Charlie since last night?”

Charlotte fake vomits at the use of his affectionate nickname for her, then shakes her head to tell me to say no.

“Um, not really?” I flinch since it came out like a question.

“Oh,” he sounds sad, empty almost. “How mad do you think she is?”

“I don’t need to talk to her to know that she’s pissed, Chase.”

Charlotte hums her approval.

“I know, I just—I don’t know. I was drinking and saw her with that guy and lost it. That should be me. Not Noah or Marcus or whatever guy doesn’t know her like I do. Me.”

Charlotte’s nostrils flare and her leg starts bouncing.

“You can’t make that decision for her, Chase.”

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