“Jerk.” Chad pulled away.
“You said you didn’t love her, anyway. What do you care what I call her?” Tucker regretted it as soon as he’d said it. “Chad…”
“Screw you! You’re not a man. I thought you were the other day.” Chad shook his head. “But you’re a spoiled, immature kid. And a jerk. A man doesn’t call a woman names.”
Tucker was silent.
“It doesn’t matter, anyway.”
“Why?” Tucker’s tone was like that of a brat. Chad was right. He was arguing like a child—a thirteen-year-old, not an eighteen-year-old. Maybe he was worse, maybe ten, but he didn’t care. “Because your bitchy mother said—”
“Because you’re a filthy liar! You did something not cool, man.” Chad’s voice was angry, strong, upright—a little quiet—but he was standing tough. He was arguing like a man.
“Like what? What did I do?”
“You messed around with Roy,” Chad whispered harshly.
“Oh. How do you—?”
“He told me.”