God bless San Francisco.

Shane sits across from me, wearing his "TV Is Gooder Than Books" tee and a frown. His face has long ago healed and he is back to looking his normal self, but he doesn't look particularly happy. After the server takes our orders, he lets out a heavy sigh.

"Being an intern sucks ass," he says, and I take a sip from my Diet Coke and shake my head.

"You need to start somewhere," I point out. Shane and I have been incredibly lucky to bag paid internships. He shouldn't be sulking, especially considering the kick-ass magazine he is working for now.

But Shane leans forward and lowers his voice. "Wanna hear what I do all day? I go for coffee runs, transcribe boring interviews and serve as the official wingman for the PA's and secretaries of the f*cking place."

"What did you expect? It's a trendy magazine. Everybody wants to work there. You need to work your way to the top. I, on the other hand…" I point my forefinger to my temple. "Am going to work for a local magazine that no one reads. I may get lucky and actually write articles, but the downside is that absolutely no one will read them. Pow. " I pretend to shoot myself.

Shane winces.

"It'll get better." He pats the back of my hand.

"Or worse." I manage a smile. "So what's up with you and Izzy? I know she paid you a visit in Vegas, but she wouldn't tell me what you guys were up to, and knowing you, it couldn't have been good."

Shane throws his body back into his chair and laughs whole-heartedly. "Why not? I broke up with Gemma before I saw her because I knew she'd kill me if she found out I was seeing a chick. No brownie points for that?"

"Not if she lost her virginity with you and you abandoned her...again. Wait, you can't lose you virginity twice, but you can still get hurt again."

Shane rubs his face. "That's not the whole story, and it's inaccurate as hell, Miss Soon-To-Be Journalist."

I shrug. "Answer my question. Are you guys involved in any way? Her sudden secrecy is freaking me out."

"No," he reassures. "Honest to God, the reason why she's not telling you anything is that there is nothing to tell. She was just checking up on me and got me some room service in Vegas. And when we came back home, she stopped answering my calls. Again."

"That's good," I say, and quickly backpedal. "I mean, not good, but at least I know that she's okay."

I wish I hadn’t told Shane I know he took Izzy's V-card. I'm not sure he's supposed to know that I know. But here we are, staring at each other awkwardly, desperate to bury the thought of my best friend tapping my twin sister.

Good freaking thing we're not identical.

Shane clears his throat. "So any news from that nutjob?"

I stare at my hands. "Shane, I'm really sorry about what happened with him, but you have to at least try and see it from Ty’s point of view." I can't believe this sentence just left my mouth, but it's too late to take it back, I guess. "First, he got some vibes about you wanting me. Then, he misinterpreted a text you sent me and thought you threatened me. Then, he found out you tried to hit on me. After which, you accused him of some serious stuff—twice.

“It’s not an accusation if it’s true,” Shane huffs.

“One thing was true, but the other was a misunderstanding. And anyway…" I take a deep breath. "He wanted to clear things up between the three of us. You’re the one who punched first. There's no excuse for his violence afterward, there really isn't, but him beating you up is not the whole story. There's more to it."

Shane is obviously annoyed with my case. "But you aren't taking him back," he says with conviction, and when I don't answer, he smacks a flattened palm on the table. "Jesus, tell me you're not taking him back. The guy was a f*cking man-whore. No pun intended."

I squirm in my seat. "Please don't make a scene. Sit down."

Every muscle in his body is still tense. His eyes never leave mine. "You can't take him back," he says, more to himself than to me.

I nod, then shake my head, then nod again. Ouch. That was not a wise thing to do.

"I'm not saying I will. I mean, I may take him back. If he'll still have me. But I'm not sure he's my biggest fan right now. I pissed him off."

Shane pretends to look shocked, slapping a hand over his mouth while his eyes bug out in disbelief. "No way. Are we still talking about the same Tyler Wilder? Because I clearly remember him being so stoic and composed."

Our food arrives and Shane still stares at me, while I tuck into my vegan tacos, pretending not to notice the way his pupils are boring holes in my face.

"You really love him," he says finally, and oh so very quietly. I nod without looking up, fighting back the tears.

"Dude." He runs his hand through his hair, rolling his eyes. "You really do love this loser."

Ty's a lot of things, but I'm pretty sure he isn't a loser. All the same, I confirm Shane's diagnosis with a hitched shoulder.

Then I hear him gritting his teeth. "Fine, but the next time I see him, I’ll punch him again for what he did to me, just for good measure."

Chapter Nineteen

My routine is a source of security for me. I hang on to it and remind myself that I’m still alive. I work, go to sleep and repeat. Ty doesn’t contact me, and even though that doesn't surprise my in the slightest—he's always been a man of his word—it’s slicing my soul to tiny pieces. Has he touched another girl yet? Has he moved on? I want to know. I don’t want to know.