Chapter 30
TARA
Ifollow Troy through Moe’s, my sparkly dress suddenly feeling too bright, too obvious. Every step feels like walking toward execution. How do I even begin to explain how I ended up fake dating his best friend?
The cool night air hits as we step outside, and I almost wish more people were around. Witnesses might make this less brutal.
“Troy, wait—”
“Explain.” He turns to face me, arms crossed. “And don’t give me some bullshit about helping each other out. I want the real story.”
I take a deep breath. “It started with his family. They were trying to set him up with this girl, Marcie, and—”
“And what? You just volunteered to play pretend? Come on, Tar. I know you better than that.”
Heat creeps up my neck and my head roars.
He thinks he knows me, thinks he knows what’s best. “Maybe you don’t.
Maybe I’m tired of everyone thinking they know what’s best for me, what I can and can’t handle.
You don’t have to like it, Troy. But you do have to accept it.
I choose who I love. I choose who I trust. And I won’t let anyone—family or not—make those decisions for me again. ”
“This isn’t about that.” Troy runs a hand through his hair - that familiar frustrated gesture. “This is about you and my best friend lying to my face all summer. And you probably getting yourself hurt. Tar, you were broken after Liam. I can’t see you like that again.”
I flinch a little. Troy was there for me when Liam cheated on me. He picked up the pieces of my self-esteem. Dad was away and mom was distracted, but Troy was there for it all.
“We didn’t lie to you, and Alfie isn’t Liam. It wasn’t supposed to get complicated.”
“But it did, didn’t it?” Troy’s voice softens dangerously. “Something happened between you two.”
The door behind us opens, spilling golden light across the parking lot. My heart stops when I see who it is. Oh, for fuck’s sake.
Alfie stands there, tension radiating from every line of his body. His eyes find mine first, always find mine first, before shifting to Troy.
“We need to talk,” Alfie says quietly.
Troy’s laugh is sharp. “Now you want to talk? After spending all summer sneaking and hooking up with my sister?”
“It wasn’t like that.” Alfie takes a step forward, and I catch the way his hands clench at his sides. “Nothing was supposed to happen.”
“But something did happen,” Troy says. It’s not a question.
The air crackles between them, years of friendship suddenly charged with something darker. I should say something, step between them, but my voice feels stuck in my throat.
“Troy—” I start.
“Did you sleep with her?”
The question hits like a slap. Alfie’s silence is answer enough.
Troy moves so fast I barely register it. One second he’s standing next to me, the next he has Alfie pinned against the brick wall of Moe’s.
God, he’s being such an asshole. We all knew he’d react like this - it’s exactly why we kept it secret. Because his little sister makes her own choices about who to sleep with.
“You don’t get to do this,” Troy spits out angrily, forearm pressed against Alfie’s chest. “Not with her. Not with Tara.”
Alfie doesn’t fight back. Doesn’t even try to break Troy’s hold. He just stands there, accepting it like he thinks he deserves it. Something in my chest cracks at the sight.
“She’s not like the girls at those clubs your family drags you to,” Troy continues. “She’s not some arrangement or whatever fucked up thing you think a relationship is. She has real fucking feelings and she loves hard.”
“I know that.” Alfie’s voice is quiet but steady. “Trust me, I know exactly how special she is.”
“Do you?” Troy presses harder. “Because I’ve watched you for years, man.
The careful distance, the walls, the way you never let anyone get close.
And that’s fine - it’s your life. But Tara?
” His voice breaks slightly. “Tara feels everything. She puts her whole heart into everything. I won’t let you play with that just because you’re scared of turning into your father. ”
I want to scream. Want to remind them both that I’m standing right here, that my heart is mine to risk. But something in Alfie’s expression stops me.
“You think I don’t know that?” Alfie’s mask finally cracks. “You think I don’t lie awake at night terrified that I’ll hurt her? That I’ll taint her somehow with all my family’s bullshit?”
“She deserves so much better than—”
“Than what?” I cut in, unable to stay quiet any longer. “Than somebody you approves of? I need you to stop making decisions for me, Troy. Starting now.”
Then I force myself to look at Alfie, to say the words that feel like splinters in my throat. “We don’t owe him explanation, but it doesn’t matter anymore. It’s over.”
Alfie’s head snaps up, those dark eyes finding mine. For a moment, I see everything there - confusion, hurt, a silent plea that makes my chest ache. But I hold his gaze until he gets it. Until he gives me the smallest nod, accepting this choice even though I can see he doesn’t want to.
“She’s right.” His voice is flat, distant. “It’s finished.”
“She’s right. It’s finished,” Alfie says.
Troy looks between us, his expression unreadable. Then his eyes land on me—sharp, assessing, like he’s trying to figure out if I actually believe what I just said. Something in that look makes something snap inside me.
I step closer. “Troy. Listen to me for once.” My voice shakes, but I keep going. “Let him go.”
“Tara—”
“I said let him go.” Something in my tone must get through because Troy’s grip loosens. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to act like I’m still that little girl who needed protecting. I decide who I let in.” And who I push away, I add silently, not daring to look at Alfie again.
Troy steps back, but not before locking eyes with Alfie.
Oh god. Is someone about to do something stupid?
A silent exchange passes between them, one I can’t quite decipher. Then, after a beat, Alfie gives the smallest nod, and Troy’s shoulders ease, just barely.
“Later,” Troy says quietly.
“Yeah,” Alfie murmurs.
I want to understand what just passed between them, want to believe they’ll actually talk instead of letting this fester, but I’m too drained to try to figure it out.
The door to Moe’s swings open, spilling light and noise into the parking lot.
“Yo, what’s taking so long out here—oh shit.” Ethan freezes in the doorway, taking in the scene. “Should I come back with reinforcements?”
“Already here.” Freddie appears behind him, Alex at his side. “Everything cool out here?”
“Just peachy,” I say, not taking my eyes off Troy. “My brother was just letting go of Alfie. Weren’t you, Troy?”
Troy’s jaw clenches, but he steps back. Alfie straightens, adjusting his shirt but making no move to get away from the wall.
“Well,”—Ethan claps his hands together, too loud in the tense silence—“since nobody’s getting punched, I say this calls for shots!”
Alex elbows him hard. “Read the room, idiot.”
“No,” Troy says finally, still looking at Alfie, “he’s right. We could all use a drink.”
“Several drinks,” Freddie mutters.
The tension cracks slightly. Not gone, but at least fractured enough to breathe through.
The music pounds through the floor of The Black Cat, some underground club Ethan insisted we try, claiming it’s the newest and coolest spot for all UMS students.
The air is thick with smoke and I am a little more than tipsy.
It feels good to move my body to the music and I realize how much I’ve missed letting loose with my friends.
Through the crowd, I spot Alex on the dance floor, moving like she was born for it. A surge of affection hits me - my best friend who dropped everything to be here all the way from California, who isn’t pissed at me for hiding a secret from her all summer.
I spot Troy holding court by the bar—he can’t help it.
That movie-star smile of his pulls people in like moths to a flame.
Next to him, Ethan stands at his full 6’1”, his strawberry-blonde hair easy to spot even in the dim light.
His hand rests casually on Paige’s lower back as she leans into him, having joined us after Moe’s.
Honestly, I’m glad she missed pre-drinks. Let her think we all have our lives together for at least one night before she realizes how spectacularly untrue that is.
We’re a lovable family, but we have our fucked-up moments.
I haven’t seen Alfie in at least twenty minutes.
“I’m going to the bathroom!” I shout over the music to Alex.
She starts to step away from her dance circle. “I’ll come!”
“No, stay! You look amazing out there!”
She hesitates, then grins. “Hurry back!”
The hallway to the bathrooms is dim, the bass from the club a steady pulse beneath my skin. My heels click against the floor—until I collide with someone solid.
Strong hands catch me, steady me.
“Sorry, I—” The words catch in my throat.
Alfie.
His grip doesn’t loosen. His fingers press into my waist like he’s anchoring himself—or maybe me. In the low light, his eyes are unreadable, but the way he’s looking at me? It’s not neutral. Not even close.
“Careful, Tink.”
He doesn’t let go. Instead, his hand shifts lower, fingers spanning my hip like a claim. Like muscle memory.
My back meets the wall, though I don’t remember stepping back. His other hand lifts, brushing a stray strand of hair behind my ear, trailing lower—his touch featherlight but leaving heat in its wake.
“You look exquisite tonight.” His voice is quiet, a murmur meant just for me.
“Thanks,” I manage, but it comes out breathless.
His eyes drop to my mouth, and suddenly I'm remembering everything - his mouth on mine, his hands in my hair, the way he'd make me fall apart.
His leg slides between mine, and I have to bite back a gasp.
His fingers brush the kunzite pendant at my throat, a reminder of how well he sees me, how much he notices.