Ash was stretched out on the bed, one tattooed arm tucked behind his head, the other resting on his bare stomach. Shirtless. Staring at the ceiling. Thinking way too much.

You were in the bathroom on the other side of the wall, and something about you had been off lately. Not in a dramatic way—still you—but cooler. Distant. Like there was this invisible barrier between you and him. He’d felt it all week. Even earlier, when you’d had sex. You hadn’t touched him the way you usually did, hadn’t melted into him, hadn’t met him halfway. You were quieter, almost absent. He’d done most of the work—not that he cared about that—but you didn’t seem to enjoy it. And that part? That bothered him more than he wanted to admit.

He noticed. Of course he did.

His thoughts were cut short when your phone lit up on the nightstand and buzzed. He turned his head just enough to squint at it, then looked back up at the ceiling.

Probably nothing, he told himself. Just some app notification.

It buzzed again.

Then again.

Again.

By the fourth time, his jaw tightened. He reached over and grabbed it.

Before he could even unlock the screen, the name popped up.

Incoming call — Liam.

Ash frowned, staring at it like it didn’t make sense. Liam. One of his guys. The one he trusted the most.

What the fuck?

The call stopped. Voicemail. Notifications slid up immediately after—and Ash felt his stomach drop.

Hey, you awake? I can’t stop thinking about you right now. You with Ash? Can we meet? I really wanna see you.

Ash just sat there, frozen.

Liam. His dude. Texting his girl at one in the morning. Saying he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

He opened the thread.

There was a lot more.

Replies to your story. You’re stunning. That dress you wore yesterday? I swear I couldn’t keep my hands to myself if Ash hadn’t been glued to you. I miss you. Let’s go out. No friends. Just us, for once. Break up with Ash. He doesn’t deserve you, and you know I’d treat you better.

A photo followed.

Bet Ash’s body doesn’t look as good as mine.

Ash’s grip tightened around the phone.

You hadn’t encouraged it. Most of the time, you didn’t reply at all. And when you did, it was nothing like Liam’s messages.

Liam, what the fuck?? Stop texting me. I’m with Ash right now. I’m with Ash and I love him. What is so hard to understand? Leave it. Stop looking at me like that when we’re out. It makes me uncomfortable. Just stop. I’m not interested.

Ash sat up slowly, elbows on his knees, eyes glued to the screen. He shut them for a second, breathing out through his nose, sharp and shaky.

How the hell did his own guy think he could do this? Go behind his back. Go after his girl.

Anger burned hot in his chest, violent and immediate. He scanned the room like he needed something to throw, to break, just to let it out. He wasn’t mad at you—not really—but it still twisted in him.

Why hadn’t you told him?

Were you scared he’d react like this? That he wouldn’t believe you? That he’d lose it?

And Liam—

Right now, Ash only wanted one thing. To see him face-to-face and beat the absolute shit out of him.

His gaze drifted to the bathroom door. He could still hear the water running, steam curling under the frame.

You were right there.

And everything had just changed.