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Then I notice Dylan watching him. His mood is unusually serious, and when his gaze shifts across the cafeteria and lands on me, he doesn’t look away. Instead, he gives a small shake of his head, the disappointment on his face so unmistakable that I feel it all the way across the room.

Well, shit. I guess Dylan knows a lot more about what’s going on between Milo and me than I thought.

“Doesn’t that make you sick?” Sienna demands, following my line of sight. “I mean, look at her. Why doesn’t she just climb into his fucking lap and be done with it? It’s like she’s his girlfriend instead of you.”

“Sienna!” I grab her wrist and tug her toward me when a few nearby students turn their heads. “Will you keep your voice down?” I scold. “If it bothers you that much, just don’t look at them. The last thing I need is you causing a scene.”

“Me?” She snatches her wrist out of my grip, looking thoroughly offended. “You’re the one who should be making a scene, Max. Not me.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

Her lips press into a thin line as she leans back in her chair and folds her arms across her chest.

“You want to know what I think?” she asks, although judging by the look on her face, she’s going to tell me whether I want to hear it or not. “I think those bitches have already stolen more happiness from you than they ever had any right to. They’ve spent years making your life miserable, and somehow, they’ve managed to convince you that they get to decide whether you’re allowed to be happy or not.”

“Sienna—”

“No, hear me out. You’ve spent so long being afraid of what Peyton might do to you that you’ve started making decisions based solely on what she might do next. And you know what the really fucked-up part is? She doesn’t even have to threaten you anymore. You’re so used to living in fear that you’re doing all the work for her.”

I open my mouth to argue, but the words never come.

As much as I hate to admit it, Sienna has a point. When was the last time I did something simply because I wanted to, without first considering how Peyton might react?

“Think about it, Max. You’re hiding your own boyfriend. You’re sitting here watching that bitch practically throw herself at him, and you’re too scared to say a word. You’re letting Peyton dictate every part of your relationship, and she doesn’t even know she’s doing it.” Sienna shakes her head. “So tell me something. What the hell can those girls possibly do to you that they haven’t already done?”

“They can take Milo away from me again,” I whisper.

There. I’ve said it.

The one fear that’s been sitting in the pit of my stomach ever since Milo and I found our way back to each other.

Sienna lets out a long, exaggerated breath, looking as though she’s fighting the urge to reach across the table and shake some sense into me.

“That boy isn’t going anywhere,” she says firmly. “Milo Fletcher has loved you practically his entire life. Everyone could see it long before you ever figured it out. Do you honestly think his stepsister and her little red army could scare him away? Please. There’s nothing those girls could ever come up with that would make Milo love you any less.” She scoffs. “When you pushed him away, that poor guy walked around this school looking like his whole world had fallen apart. And still, he never stopped loving you. Not even when loving you was breaking his heart. And now that you two are finally together, you’re seriously going to let a bunch of spoiled-ass cunts take that happiness away from you?”

I look toward Milo’s table again, my chest tightening at the sight of him sitting there, looking so utterly miserable. And the worst part is knowing that I’m the reason. Not because he doubts how much I love him, but because I’m asking him to lie about the one thing he’s never wanted to hide—how he feels about me. And I’m beginning to realize just how much that’s costing him.

God, what am I doing?

“You know what?” I say, pushing back my chair. “You’re right.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

“You’re absolutely right.”

“Yes, we’ve established that. Now what are you going to do about it?”

I look at Milo one more time, and suddenly the answer seems so obvious that I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to figure it out.

“What I should have done a long time ago.”

I step away from the table and march across the cafeteria.

I can feel Sienna’s eyes following me, but I don’t look back. My heart is pounding so hard that I’m surprised nobody can hear it as I weave between the tables, ignoring the curious glances from students who probably can’t figure out why someone like me would willingly approach the most popular table in the cafeteria.

By the time I reach Milo’s table, several conversations have already fallen silent. His teammates look at me with varying degrees of confusion, while the Reds regard me with the same disdain they usually reserve for something they’ve scraped off the bottom of their shoes.

“Are you lost or something?” Amber asks, giving me a once-over.