“No fucking way.”

I mutter it under my breath, glaring at my phone—the song ‘English Love Affair’ playing through the speakers, like it personally offended me. I rewind the song, letting the chorus hit again just to make sure I’m not hearing things.

Yeah. I heard it right.

It’s been a few weeks since we wrapped the Where We Are tour. 5SOS were our opening act, and I figured bringing you along would be fun—you’re one of my closest friends, after all. Always have been. It just made sense. You loved the shows, we got to spend time together, and for a while, it felt like old times. Easy.

What I didn’t plan for was Ashton fucking Irwin kissing you every time we went out. Little stolen moments in dark corners of clubs, his arm draped around you like you belonged to him.

Not that I was jealous. At least… that’s what I kept telling myself.

You and Ashton were just a tour fling, right? Temporary. A distraction. I thought it’d burn out as fast as it started. And when the tour ended, I figured so did whatever that thing was. Done and dusted.

But now? Now he’s gone and written a song about you. A whole fucking song.

‘English Love Affair.’ What a joke. What a fucking shit name.

My jaw tightens as the final chorus fades out. Before I can talk myself out of it, I grab my phone and hit your contact. My foot taps restlessly against the floor as it rings.

You answer.

“Have you heard it? The song?” I snap, voice low but clipped.

No hello. No preamble. Just the question I can’t keep down.