Ari had made a lot of mistakes in his life. His biggest might've been telling himself he didn't love Dante Quintana.

Ari watched Dante slam the door of his truck and storm off, before hurriedly following him. He'd taken him to the desert. Ari said he loved the desert. He said he loved a lot of things. Dante got mad.

Ari knew Dante couldn't handle the "just being friends" thing. Even if they'd been friends since they were fifteen. It was a weak excuse. Ari knew Dante loved him. He knew that kiss meant everything to Dante. Even if he didn't know what Dante found so lovable.

Ari had refused it. He'd let Dante believe he didn't love him, let Dante run off with other guys and wind up getting jumped. Ari felt sick. Ari didn't know if he was mad Dante got hurt, or he was mad Dante was with other guys. He felt bad about that, too.

"Dante, wait," Ari touched his shoulder. Dante immediately shrugged it off. "Remember when you kissed me? Do you remember how I said it didn't work for me?" Dante glared at him.

Ari stared back. "I lied."