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“Are you trying to make sure Savvy doesn’t feel left out if she gets two black eyes?”

His huff of laughter made me feel a tiny bit better.

“I need to talk to you,” he said, his forehead on the door. “And I have no idea how to tell you this.” He turned to me. “Ineed you to see something,” he said. “And you’re not going to like it.”

I ran my tongue over my top teeth as I watched him. He looked genuinely sick. “You have an STD?”

He shook his head slightly as if to clear it. “Fuck, seriously?”

I shrugged. “Dude, you’re acting as if you’ve given me something, it makes sense that I ask.”

“It makes sense that...” He shook his head as he watched me. “No,” he said flatly. “Just listen.”

I pressed my lips together, looking away from him. “Okay.”

“Your brain is wired weird.”

“Yeah, it’s my fault, I asked the knownplayerif he had an STD.”

“I already fucked you!” He looked confused and angry. “You want to knowthatanswer, you ask before I stick my dick in you.”

I held my hands up. “Wow.” I picked up my purse. “I mean,wow.”

“You can’t leave.” Dustin grabbed my elbow as I walked past. He tugged me into the side of his body. His forehead came down to rest against my temple. “Not yet.”

I held still, because as much as I wanted to lean into him, I knew that whatever he was apologizing for was going to be bad. “Tell me.”

He stepped away, and I instantly missed his warmth. He pulled his phone out. “You need to see this.”

Hesitantly, I reached out and took his phone. The breath left my body in one whoosh.

My eyes were wide as I looked at myself, on my knees, on the sidewalk, ready to swallow Dustin’s cock. “Whoa,fuck, that’s not a good pic.”

He snorted. “No, it is not.”

“Who sent this to you?” I asked him, eyes wide, handing him his phone back.

“I don’t know.” He held my stare, and I felt my fingers go numb.

“Dustin . . . that looks really bad.”

“I know.” He closed his eyes. He took a deep breath. “I don’t know who sent it, or what they want — but they dragged you into it.”

I was thinking quickly. “So it’s not out there yet?” I asked him, opening my phone and checking every social media platform I knew of.

“I don’t think so. The good thing is, you’re not clearly identified.”

I rolled my eyes as I typed into search engines. “Anyone with a brain cell will put us together. The length of my hair isn’t common.”

“Right, your hair.” He looked like he was considering cutting it.

“We can get ahead of this,” I told him. I pointed at my neck. “You gave me a hickey.”

He looked at my neck, and then at me. “Oh.”

“You’re twenty. People our age don’t go around sucking necks like high schoolers—”

“What?”