"Tell me you didn't touch her."
Grant says nothing.
And that silence alone is enough.
Nolan stands across from him in the middle of the Finance building hallway, while students stream past, doors swing open, and somewhere behind the next wall someone laughs as if this Tuesday weren't in the middle of turning into one single shitty joke.
His gaze stays on Grant.
Four years of friendship.
Four years of parties, training, all-nighters over exam prep, shared weekends, and conversations Nolan doesn't have with just anyone.
"How many times?"
"Nolan—"
"How. Many times."
Grant rubs the back of his neck.
"Twice."
Nolan laughs.
Just once.
Short, dry, and completely humorless.
"Of course."
"I was going to tell you."
"When?"
Nolan tilts his head.
"Before or after you slept with my girlfriend a third time?"
Grant's jaw tightens.
"It wasn't planned."
"That's incredibly reassuring."
Nolan doesn't wait for the rest.
He turns around.
His backpack hangs over one shoulder, his black hoodie open over his shirt, the watch on his wrist catching the light for a moment. His dark hair is messier than usual because he's run his hand through it about five times in the past twenty minutes.
His steps stay calm.
That's almost the worst part.
He's not drunk.
Not out of control.
Not even surprised enough to convince himself Grant might be lying.
The information Nolan got this morning was real.
So were the other names.
Grant was just the last damn nail in the coffin of a truth Nolan didn't even know until a few hours ago.
Delphine cheated on him multiple times.
And Grant knew better than almost anyone what he was destroying.
The building's doors slam shut behind Nolan.
Outside, Wexley lies under harsh midday light. Students sit on the plaza walls, bikes cut across the paths, someone hands out flyers in front of the library, and two guys argue over an exam Nolan would have cared about yesterday.
The world keeps moving.
Nolan hates it a little for that.
His phone buzzes in his pocket.
He pulls it out.
Delphine.
Of course.
He looks at her name.
Declines the call.
Not ten seconds later, a message appears on the screen.
Nolan doesn't open it.
Not here.
Maybe not at all until he's face to face with her.
He pockets the phone and keeps walking.
The cafeteria is on the other side of the plaza.
Normally he'd be eating with Corey right now. Maybe Priya would show up, uninvited, steal fries off his tray, and then claim she never wanted any.
Normal.
Today, normal would be pretty damn convenient.
Nolan pushes open the cafeteria door.
Noise hits him immediately.
Voices. Dishes. Coffee machines. Chairs scraping across the floor. Something drops somewhere and a group by the window bursts into laughter.
Nolan takes three steps inside.
Then he sees her.
Delphine.
Several tables away.
She's sitting between Marta and two other students, a cup in front of her, her phone beside her arm. Polished as always. Controlled as always.
Eighteen months.
He knows the way she tilts her head slightly when listening. Knows which coffee she orders. Which show she secretly thinks is terrible but still watched three seasons of. How she sounds when she's half-asleep in the morning.
He loved this woman.
Maybe some fucked-up part of him still does.
That doesn't change anything.
It's over for him.
Delphine looks up.
She sees him.
And Nolan recognizes the exact moment she realizes something is wrong.
Her face barely changes.
But he knows her.
Her fingers freeze on the cup.
Nolan freezes too.
Around them, no one notices anything yet.
Good.
He could go to her now.
Pull out the chair across from her.
Mention Grant.
The other names.
Ask her how many it actually was.
Reasonable.
Mature.
Probably even healthy.
Then the cafeteria door opens behind him again.
Nolan only looks because someone nearly bumps into his shoulder.
And sees you.
His face goes completely still.
No.
Absolutely not.
That would be childish.
Unnecessary.
Public.
And after everything that's happened today, probably the worst decision he's still missing.
His gaze slowly drifts back to Delphine.
She's watching him now.
Then back to you.
Nolan Pryce has known you for about ten years.
Ten years of competition.
Ten years of shitty comments.
Pranks.
Bets.
Arguments that should have ended long ago but kept going because neither of you would let the other have the last word.
No secret love.
No repressed longing.
You're simply the person that anyone who's known you longer would say with absolute certainty:
Nolan Pryce would willingly do a lot of things.
Choosing you usually isn't one of them.
The corner of his mouth lifts.
Shit.
There it is.
The really bad idea.
Nolan starts moving.
Between the tables.
Past two students who greet him and get no answer this time.
His gaze stays on you while behind him, Delphine tracks every single one of his movements.
He stops in front of you.
Tall, dressed in dark clothes, and visibly too calm for someone whose relationship just fell apart.
His gaze sweeps over your face for a moment.
"I need you for about ten seconds."
One second passes.
His brow arches.
"You're going to hate it."
Nolan could explain what he's planning.
Probably should, even.
Instead, he looks over your shoulder.
Straight at Delphine.
She's still watching.
Of course she is.
And right there, the more sensible half of his brain loses against the part of Nolan Pryce that has always made especially terrible decisions when someone wounds his pride deep enough.
Wounded pride.
Impulse.
A targeted payback.
His gaze returns to you.
Then he decides.
Nolan takes the last step, lifts his hand toward your jaw — and stops, an inch short, palm open, waiting where you can see it.
"Tell me yes or tell me no,"
he says, quiet enough that only your table can hear it.
Behind him the cafeteria just keeps living.
Dishes clatter.
A coffee machine hisses.
Someone laughs.
And somewhere several tables away sits the woman he was still officially with this morning.
Nolan only looks at you.
For about a second, his arrogant expression holds completely.
Then it seems to dawn on him what he just did — asked you, of all people, out loud, in front of half the room.
His brow arches slowly.
"Okay."
A brief glance at Delphine.
Then back to you.
The corner of his mouth twitches.
"Sounded way less stupid in my head."
Now Nolan doesn't move an inch.
His hand is still there.
Whatever you say next, he's just very reliably gotten himself into it.