It's all I can do not to walk over and bash their heads together as I watch them from across the cafeteria.

Both Landon and Asher, my best friend's exes, or whatever they are at this point, are practically salivating—sitting with their chests puffed out, like two dogs fighting over a bone as their eyes lock on Breslin.

Not that I can't understand why. Despite speculations around campus over the years, I've never been sexually attracted to her. Probably because I consider her more of a sister than a friend. That said, the girl is gorgeous. She's all curves for days, huge boobs, and fierce red hair with a fiery personality to match.

My gaze rests on Asher and I freeze. There's no refuting that he and his brother bear a strong resemblance to one another, deep dimples included. But while Asher is all light blue eyes and blond hair—giving him that golden boy vibe, Preston's features are darker...sharper—giving his appearance an intensity his older brother lacks.

And even though I prefer pussy to penis seven days a week and twice on Sundays, I can't deny—objectively speaking, of course—that both Holdens are good looking.

Good looking jerks.

Sighing, I focus back on my friend. “They're still staring at you.”

She stabs a piece of lettuce with her fork, and I wonder which one of them she imagines it is, seeing as they both did quite a number on her. “I know.”

I take a long sip of my soda, silently pondering if I should ask my next question, given it's none of my business. On the other hand, Breslin getting hurt again is my business and if what's happening between the three of them is what I'm thinking—Mamma Mia, things are going to get complicated.

“Okay, that's it,” I say because I'd rather focus on her drama instead of mine. “The suspense is killing me. What is going on? You haven't slept at the dorm the past two nights, and no offense, but you look exhausted.”

“I'm not exactly sure,” she says. “But I don't want to talk about it right now.”

Concern punches me in the gut, but when I open my mouth to tell her I'm here for her, I make the awful mistake of looking up.

Just like that, my concern for her rapidly turns to concern for Preston Holden...because he has the balls, and evidently the stupidity, to start walking toward me.

I have nothing to say to him—nothing good anyway—after what happened the other night.

My heart spasms when he sits down in front of us, his eyes solely glued on me.

Breslin makes to stand, but I reach for her hand under the table, silently urging her to stay because I don't want to be alone with him again.

Preston grips the back of his neck, and before I can ask him what the hell he's doing here... he pulls something out of his pocket and slides it across the table.

My breath freezes in my chest because I would recognize that jewelry box with my eyes closed.

It's my mother's engagement ring.

He looks at me then and I honestly don't know how it's possible to hate someone, and yet, want to hug them with everything you're barely hanging on to.

“Give this to someone who deserves it next time.”

His words are like a fist to the face. Not only because it brings me back to our conversation on the bridge...but it's a reminder of the situation we're in and why we can never be friends.

“How's the baby?” I ask when he stands up. The words feel like sandpaper in my throat, but I know no matter how much I hate him and Becca, I could never find it in my heart to hate or wish ill on an innocent baby.

A baby Becca and I once talked about having after we got married.

He looks around the room and lets out a sigh. “Baby's good. We had our first sonogram today.”

There's something significant in his eyes when he says that, almost like he's finally accepted this baby is happening...whether he likes it or not.

A bolt of pain shoots through me with my own acceptance. There's no way back from this. Becca is having a baby...with him.

The girl I love is going to have everything we were supposed to...with someone else.

I draw in a breath and nod, trying like hell to push through the ache. I can feel myself crumbling like cheap plasterboard with every beat of my broken heart.

“I'm sorry,” Preston says solemnly in my direction before he backs away, his tall frame becoming blurry.

The second he's out those doors, the fragile dam inside me breaks and I lose it.

I hate the idea of people witnessing my meltdown, especially since I gave them all quite a show last week, but I can't help myself.

I've never been good at controlling my emotions, and when I feel something, good or bad, I feel it with all my heart and soul.

Breslin stands up and wraps me in her arms before she ushers me into a bathroom.

“I'm so sorry, honey,” she whispers. “I wish I could take it all away.”

“Me too.” My fingers wrap around the jewelry box. “This was my mom's.”

It's my feeble attempt at trying to get her to understand how serious I was about Becca. I know Breslin had her reservations about her, and in the end, she was right, but I thought Becca was the one.

Our relationship wasn't perfect, and deep down I always felt like there was something about her I couldn't quite figure out, but I told myself it didn't matter. Because when I was with her, I was happy.

And it's been such a long time since I've truly felt that.

Almost nine long years.

But as it turns out, every laugh and smile between us was a lie—because she was a liar, a cheater—and all she did was take advantage of me.

The girl truly deserves an Oscar for her performance...because I fell for it. Fell for her.

Actually, that's not quite right—I didn't fall—because falling for someone implies they'll catch you.

Becca didn't. She let me hit the ground.

She let me crash.

And now, I have to muster the strength it takes to pick myself up again, but I don't know how to even begin to do that, because I'm still lying in the debris of the mess she left behind.

Choking back another sob, I walk over to the sink and wash my face, trying my best to find the will to breathe again. “I have to get to class.”

I don't mention that I have to do something I dread even more after class.

I catch my reflection in the mirror and cringe. It's that time of the month I freaking hate, and it has nothing to do with aunt flow coming to town.

I have to go on a date with a guy tonight. All so I can receive my monthly allowance.

Unfortunately, there's an incentive clause in my parents' will stating that I can only receive my monthly allotment on the basis that I'm leading a healthy and productive life. That caveat is what gives my Nanna—who is basically the gatekeeper—grounds to make her unfair stipulations.

I know the clause, as well as the reason for the trust not being turned over to me until I'm twenty-five, was their way of protecting me and trying to be good parents. It's a lot of money to hand over to a young person, and in the wrong hands, it could have disastrous effects.

That said, the clause has made my life a living hell.

Even the family lawyer tried telling my Nanna the clause alluded to drugs and overall reckless behavior—not their child's sexuality—but she argued that because my parents never specified that, it was within her right to take it as she saw fit since she's not only my guardian, but the trust is in her name until I'm twenty-five.

Apparently, me being a lesbian is her definition of not living a healthy or productive life. Therefore, she thinks it's okay to bully and punish me into being straight.

And because that money is the only thing I have left of my parents...I let her.

I'd like to think my parents would be ashamed of her actions, but unfortunately, I'll never know.

Thankfully, I only have four more years of this shit, and once the money is mine, revenge will be too—because Nanna Bishop is going to get the shock of her life when I find the hottest chick around and partake in one hell of a dining experience right on her precious million dollar, antique kitchen table.

I can feel Breslin's eyes on me, but I'm completely unprepared for the next words out of her mouth. “Is there something going on between you and Preston?”

My eyebrows shoot up to the ceiling. Here I thought my best friend actually knew me. “What? No. What the hell is the matter with you?” I point to myself. “Strictly pussy over here.”

Good grief, she can't be serious. My mind floats back to the night at the river and a weird feeling zips up my spine. I suddenly realize she's not exactly wrong about her suspicion, she's just way off base about the underlying part of it.

But still, the fact that she can pick up on it at all is alarming. She's more perceptive than I give her credit for.

Then again, we've always been able to read one another like a book.

Kind of like how I know that she slept with both Landon and Asher recently, even though she won't tell me.

That said, just because I had a conversation with Preston and told him things I've never told anyone else, including my best friend, it doesn't mean I have feelings for him.

Feelings other than strong hate that is.

I mean...he's having a baby with my fiancée. Correction—Ex-fiancée.

He's also an asshole who comes equipped with a certain appendage that I want absolutely nothing to do with.

I snatch some paper towels from the dispenser, disgust rippling through me. “I can't believe you'd even think such a thing. Let's put it this way—if an asteroid hit the earth, leaving only me and him to repopulate the planet or face my untimely demise via being eaten and probed by aliens...I'd gladly skip toward the aliens and thank them.”

She blinks. “Look, I'm sorry—”

Heat rises to my cheeks and I glare at her. I don't know if I'm more pissed at Breslin for thinking what she did, or at myself, because in some way that makes no sense...I didn't hate Preston for those few hours we talked on the bridge.

And the thought of talking to him again? Isn't the worst thing in the world.

“I don't want to talk about it right now.”

Before she can say another word, I bolt out the bathroom door.