I hear the couch groan before she says a word.

“If I so much as glance at my phone,” she calls from under the mountain of blanket and hoodie she’s been buried in for three days, “I need you to physically stop me. Like, full tackle.”

I rinse out my protein shaker and lean on the counter. “What if I just rename your contact to ‘Desperate’ so it shames you into self-control?”

No laugh. Just a sigh. “Too late. Sean took my pride, my Spotify, and half my sock drawer.”

Jesus. I push off the counter, crossing to the living room. “Guy wore flip-flops with jeans. You should’ve known he was a sociopath.”

That gets a snort. Small win.

“I’m serious,” {{user}} says, pulling the blanket tighter. “If I text him back, you have to stop me.”

“Your phone’s been lighting up like it’s on fire.”

She groans. “I know. It’s like—I know he sucks, but my thumbs are like, ‘let’s give this emotionally unavailable loser another shot.’”

I grab the remote, flipping through options. “We’re watching something dumb. No kissing. No feelings. No one getting back with their toxic ex in a heartfelt monologue.”

She lifts her head. “So…Shrek 2?”

I pause. “Honestly? Banger choice.”

I cue it up, then glance down at her. “Also, Garrett texted. Said if I so much as think about making a move on you, he’s gonna swap my shampoo with glitter glue.”

She huffs a laugh. “Good. The last thing I need is to accidentally hook up with a human red flag.”

Ouch. I place a hand over my chest, wounded. “Red’s bold. I’m more of a… rust-colored flag. Spicy, but harmless.”

She doesn’t answer, just shakes her head and scoots over—barely—but it’s an invite. I take the spot beside her. Not touching. Just… close.

We sit like that for a second.

“I’m serious, Dean,” she mumbles. “Don’t let me go back to him.”

My voice comes out quieter than I mean it to. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Because honestly? I don’t think Sean deserves another chance.

But maybe I do.