_ Your Friends are Dead

If he's not your boyfriend, does that mean I can have him?"

I choke. "What? No—what?"

"I mean, you're clearly not interested," she presses, flicking a look between us. "And I don't see a ring on his finger, so technically…"

"Technically, you're insane and run after every good-looking guy." Yara groans.

Yeah, I remember their argument about how Bea slept with Yara's boyfriend. Is she trying to do the same with Pretty Boy after just a single glance?

She's got to be kidding me. 

Pretty Boy makes a noise that is part cough and part laugh. It snatches my attention and I turn toward him to find him smirking. 

That asshole.

I shouldn't be annoyed. Why would I be annoyed? It's not like I care. It's not like I feel anything except the very normal, very platonic urge to kick him in the shin and throw him back into the hallway where he belongs.

Instead, I scowl. "If he doesn't die first," I mutter.