A long update for you all. As always, let me know what you think and thank you for reading ♡

*

"I almost hooked up with Adrian," MJ says.

Sabina chokes on her drink and puts the bottle down. "Jesus, a little warning would be nice."

Andy checks if the door is locked once again. They're not allowed drinks inside their dorm room, but MJ texted them both after class and said she needed to drink without going to the bar, and somehow, the eldest managed to sneak in five bottles of tequila. "What happened?" she asks, sitting on the edge of the mattress.

"I hate him," MJ says.

Sabina scoffs and offers her a bottle. "Yeah, okay."

The ginger takes a swig, leaning her head back. She swipes her mouth with the back of her hand, face twisting in disgust. "Hate him for lying to me, but he's so hot. Especially when he's mad."

Andy purses her lips. "Do you still have feelings for him?"

"'Course I do," MJ answers with no hesitation, taking another swig. "I don't want to forgive him, but he's so persistent it's annoying. He went by school today and got mad at me because I let it slip I skipped lunch. He was going to drag me somewhere to eat, but then I kissed him and we almost went at it in the bathroom."

Sabina clicks her tongue. "Great going."

"Sab," Andy says with a frown, shaking her head.

MJ sighs heavily and stretches her legs on the floor, leaning against the bed frame. Her eyes are shiny, like they're threatening to spill tears. "No, she's right. Adrian stopped it because he thinks I'm going to regret it. He said we needed to talk before doing anything else. But I...I was horrible. I told him I had no intention of getting back together with a liar, but sex I'd be down for. I said he at least owed me that."

"You're brutal as fuck." The eldest drinks from her bottle. "And? You left?"

"He did, this time."

Andy slides down to the floor and envelopes her friend in a hug. "I'm sorry, MJ. Is there anything we can do?"

MJ buries her head on Andy's shoulder. "I'm just glad you guys are here. I know I need to apologize, but I need to sort my shit out first. Truth? I love him, and I don't want him to be with anyone else, but the idea of being lied to again scares me."

Sabina scoots close and joins in the group hug. "You do what you need to do, babe. He deserves shit, but he regrets what he did. Think about that."

MJ raises an eyebrow. "I thought you hated him."

"He's an asshole, but that doesn't mean he's not a human being." Sabina shrugs and clinks her bottle with MJ's. "It's your choice, 'kay? Alcohol, Andy, and I will always be here to support you. I kicked drugs out of the friend group, figured it wouldn't do you good to be reminded of that."

The ginger smiles. "Thanks, guys."

Andy chuckles and smooths her hand down MJ's hair. "Love you."

Andy spends her night with her best friends until MJ's laughing.

As for Bash...well, despite their talk, he and Andy remain good friends—the first time they saw each other after they went out with Piper and Sam, there was no hint of awkwardness in the air. Bash was as easygoing and carefree and friendly as he was before—and Andy's glad. She was a little nervous about seeing him after his confession, but Bash never brought it up. Even pretended like it didn't happen, actually.

So she saw nothing wrong with keeping their friendship. He was—is a friend.

Apparently, even though Rhysand said he trusts her, he doesn't see it that way.

Andy wakes up before her boyfriend one morning, and like always, heads to the bathroom to freshen up. She steps back inside, combing her hair with her fingers, expecting to see him still asleep, but he's sitting up against the headboard of his bed with Andy's phone in his hand. His face is carefully blank as he looks up at her. "Bash is texting you."

The statement is innocent. Curious. Calm, even. But Andy knows Rhysand enough by now—the calmness usually hides his annoyance. Plus, his fingers are gripping her phone so tightly she's afraid he'll break the casing. Or the glass. Andy hides her smile. "Why are you looking at my phone?"

"He's texting you at nine in the fucking morning," says Rhysand, tossing her phone on the covers. He levels her with an even stare.

"Probably about class," Andy says, taking it. She opens the text and reads it quickly. "See, he just said 'See you later. Catch the ball so you don't get hit' with a smiley face."

Rhysand throws the covers off of him and stands to stretch. "Ass," he mutters without looking at her, then shoves his hands in his pockets and leaves for the bathroom.

Andy finds it cute. She grins and texts Bash back. See you! Will do :D

Rhysand is quiet all the way to school, but Andy kisses him on the cheek and promises to bring food as soon as she gets off work. Rhysand leaves reluctantly.

Bash ruffles her hair when she comes out of the shower room in her swimsuit. "Ready to play?"

Andy reaches up to tie her hair. "As ready as I can be. Where's Johann?"

"Still changing." Bash rubs the nape of his neck. "You wanna get food after this? Piper and Sam are coming, too."

She looks at him. "Bash..."

"It's not another double date invitation, okay?" he says quickly, raising his palms in the air. He sighs. "I learned my lesson. Just a friend asking another friend. Promise."

Andy smiles. "Then I'd love to."

"Cool." Bash smiles back. "I'm the goalkeeper today. Try to get as many shots as you can."

"Don't worry," Johann's voice pitches in as he throws an arm over Andy's shoulder. Looking down at her, he grins. "We got this. Don't we, Andy?"

"Sure," she says with a nervous chuckle. She's going to avoid the ball as much as she can.

But Johann passes her the ball as soon as the game starts. She cradles it in her hands with wide eyes, panic settling in when the other team starts swimming towards her to steal it. Andy looks around for a teammate to pass it to, but she's nowhere near them—she's nearest to the net.

"Shoot it!" she hears Johann shout.

So without thinking, she does as he says.

Her team scores.

From the net, Bash gives her a thumbs-up.

Andy scrunches her eyebrows together. With her weak shot, Bash could've easily caught it.

Johann gives her a high-five. "That was good, Andy."

"Thanks," she mutters. The game starts again.

Bash does it so obviously. He's ruthless as a goalkeeper—but only when it's not Andy scoring.

This annoys her. As soon as Bash gets out of the shower, ready to leave, Andy takes his wrist and frowns. "Hey. What was that?"

He raises an eyebrow. "What was what?"

Andy crosses her arms. "Don't do things just because you like me. You're my friend because you don't treat me any differently from how you treat others, and I want to keep it that way. It feels weird and I don't like it."

Bash blinks in surprise. "Okay. I'm sorry, then."

Andy lets go of his arm and steps back defensively. "What?" she asks in a small voice, averting her eyes.

"It's just..." Bash chuckles. "You confronted me when I did something uncomfortable for you. I'm glad, but I didn't think you had the guts."

She clears her throat. He's right—she's never done that before. She's suddenly reminded of Luke and all the things he made her do and did to her, and all the times she bit her tongue and kept her mouth shut because she was afraid he'd leave her. Andy straightens her posture and purses her lips. Honestly, she answers, "I...maybe it's because I'm comfortable with you. As my friend. And I know you wouldn't hurt me or get mad. That's why I said all that."

The corner of Bash's mouth lifts. "You should say what's on your mind, Andy. You ready to go?"

Andy lets Rhysand know where she is while she's with her friends. He only responds with a be safe.

Rhysand doesn't say anything about it when she gets back. In fact, he shouldn't—Bash is Andy's friend. Johann is, too. Just like how Kat, MJ, and Sabina are. It shouldn't bother him at all, right?

*

Rhysand's fingers are shaking.

"Holy shit," he says, covering his mouth with his palm. It's disbelief—did he read it right? He goes over the e-mail once again, heart pounding in his chest.

Dear Mr. Rhysand Harton, it starts, and then there are words like, very impressed with your work, and very skilled, and interested in joining our company.

He scrambles for his phone and calls Sanford. His fingers are still shaking; he knows she's at work but he's hoping she answers the phone, he wants her to be the first to know—

"Hello?" answers her sweet voice. Rhysand can hear her smile. "You caught me in a good time, I'm on break. What's up?"

Rhysand's throat closes up. He takes a deep breath and curls his hand into his fist. "Sunshine," he says. "Holy shit."

"What?" She sounds worried now. "What happened? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Rhysand says. "Uh, I'm being recruited. By Sterling."

A gasp. "Oh my God," Sanford says dazedly. "Oh my God, Rhys. That's amazing."

Rhysand feels his mouth lift up and his chest fill with warmth. She sounds genuinely happy for him. "Yeah. Wanted you to know first."

Sanford is silent for a moment, and when she speaks, it's a mere whisper. "I'm honored, then. Congratulations, baby. I'm proud of you."

Hearing those words makes Rhysand tighten his grip on the phone. "I'll pick you up tonight."

"Of course, we need to celebrate!" She giggles through the line, and Rhysand's heart rate picks up. "I'll be—" There's shuffling on her end, and then a voice in the background exclaims, "Andy, these are fucking delicious. More, please?"

"Who was that?" Rhysand asks quietly.

More shuffling. "I'm glad you like them, give me one sec!" To Rhysand, Sanford says, "Sorry, Rhys. I gotta get back to work, okay?"

"Who was that?" Rhysand repeats.

"Bash," she answers without hesitation. "He came by to study in the shop. He likes my cheese tarts!"

Rhysand's jaw locks. "Bash is there?"

"Text me when you're near, okay? We'll celebrate later, I can't wait to see you," Sanford says, and Rhysand can still hear her wide smile. "Bye!"

She hangs up.

Rhysand doesn't understand.

He's been holding it in for weeks—he doesn't understand how Sanford could still hang out with the prick who confessed to her.

He knows it shouldn't be a big deal—Bash is a kid, he's, what, five? Four years younger than he is and he knows he shouldn't be bothered because he trusts Sanford. He trusts her and it's almost scary how much trust that is.

But it doesn't mean he's ecstatic about their friendship. Rhysand's trying, and he shouldn't be making a big deal over some kid, but fuck.

Grabbing his keys and wallet, he's out the door and driving to Baked!.

He's never felt this...this uncertainty before, and it's so fucking annoying because he's unsure of what to do. With Veronica, he always knew she was making him jealous for show, for bed—but with Sanford...it's not intentional. And Sanford thinks Rhysand is okay with it.

Honestly, he should be. But when he steps inside the bakeshop and sees Bash, that prick, leaning against the counter, smiling at Sanford with a fuckin' cheese tart in his hand—and Sanford, wearing a sweet smile in return as she wraps a box of pastries...he's reminded of why he isn't.

Rhysand should turn around. He should turn around and leave.

But Sanford spots him already. Her eyes widen in surprise, but then her entire face glows. "Rhys!" she yelps, mouth widening into a smile as she makes her way toward him.

Rhysand feels a little better. He catches her by the waist when she reaches him. "Couldn't wait. Sorry." But he's not apologetic at all. And it's not exactly a lie.

"It's okay. Congratulations." She grins, looking up at him. "I still can't believe it. I'm so happy for you."

Rhysand knows. He knows. "Thank you," he murmurs, brushing her hair behind her ear. "You—"

"Hi." The prick comes up behind Sanford with a friendly smile, eyeing Rhysand. "You must be the boyfriend."

Rhysand bites his tongue and gives him barely a nod.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to be rude," Sanford says, placing a hand on his arm to pull him forward. "Rhys, this is Bash. Bash, this is Rhysand."

"Good to meet you," the prick says.

Rhysand stares at him.

Bash doesn't seem intimidated. It annoys the fuck out of Rhysand. He's still wearing that smile when he says, "Have you tried the cheese tarts here? They're amazing—well, Andy made them, so it's no surprise. But you'd know that, right?"

Rhysand tilts his head to the side.

Sanford tries for a smile as she turns to Bash. "I'll wrap your box in a few, alright?"

That's his cue to leave. Take a hint, prick.

Bash tears his eyes away from Rhysand, nods and places a hand on her shoulder. Rhysand grits his teeth and glares at it. "Sure. Nice to meet you, Rhysand. See you around."

When Sanford faces him again, there's a frown on her beautiful face. Rhysand doesn't know how to explain—he doesn't want to explain. His chest is flaring with annoyance and probably anger—and it's fucking embarrassing because he's too old to act like this. "Rhys—"

And he should leave, he should apologize and leave, but what comes out of his mouth is, "Can't you come home with me? Right now?"

He's ashamed to have asked that question, but he doesn't find himself taking it back. Instead, he looks at her and waits for her answer.

Sanford is stunned. She blinks and opens her mouth, then closes it again. She stutters, "I still have work—"

"Right," Rhysand says, already turning around. "Right, forget it. I'll see you later."

He speed-walks to his car because he's too fucking embarrassed to see her reaction. He doesn't know why he's like this, he's never like this, he's acting stupid.

He slams open the door to the driver's seat and fumbles for his cigarette pack, needing one or two or three before he leaves, but when he turns back around, the pack is immediately snatched from him.

Rhysand isn't in the fucking mood for his cigarettes to be taken, but when he sees that it's Sanford giving him a disapproving look whilst dangling the box in between her fingers, he's dumbfounded.

"I'm confiscating this," she says sweetly, pocketing the pack. "Wait for me here, okay? I'll talk to Erika for a bit and grab my bag." She's smiling, she's smiling so brightly that Rhysand doesn't know what to say.

It scares him, how Sanford can smile. She's always smiling and it does things to his heart but at the same time, he's worried because he doesn't know when it's fake or not.

But when she comes back, finding him in the same spot as she left him, there's a sparkle in her eyes and Rhysand relaxes. This—this is what he needs.

"Come on," she says, grabbing his arm, "we're going to get food first because I'm hungry—my treat, of course, for my very talented music producer—and then we're going anywhere you wanna go as long as we have milkshakes."

Rhysand looks down at her. His heart hurts. "What if I just want to stay in the Jeep?"

Sanford leans up on her tiptoes to kiss him on the lips. "Then we'll stay in the Jeep."

So they get dinner and milkshakes and park somewhere on a hill, and at the backseat, Sanford wraps herself up against Rhysand and leans her head on his shoulder.

Rhysand finishes his drink and finds Sanford's hand. "You're cold?"

She shakes her head. "It's fine. I have you as my own personal heater."

Rhysand scoffs.

Sanford puts her drink down and faces him. There's pink dusted on her cheeks and Rhysand wants to kiss them. "Hey. You're happy, right? About this job? You want to take it?"

Rhysand searches her eyes. "Yes."

Sanford nods. A smile appears on her lips, and ah, his heart hurts. "Okay, good. I'm glad. As long as you want it."

Rhysand looks at her. "You'll support me, right?"

He's not like this. He doesn't ask for assurance, he's almost never uncertain about the shit he does—but somehow in some way, he needs to hear it from Sanford.

She keeps the smile on her lips as she reaches forward to cup his cheek. It's cold, but Rhysand doesn't mind. "Of course," she whispers.

And it's enough. "Okay," he whispers back.

She leans forward and brushes her lips against his. Softly. Hesitantly.

Rhysand's breath hitches in surprise but he responds quickly, pulling her head down and angling it just the right way to kiss her harder. Sanford's hands move from his hair down to the nape of his neck, and she presses her body closer to his. Rhysand grabs her thigh to drape it across his lap, and she moves toward him with a soft gasp against his mouth.

Every bite and suck and brush of her lips on his—God, he loves it.

Sanford pulls away. Her lips are red, and she's looking at him like she wants to say something.

Rhysand catches his breath. "What?" he asks breathlessly, afraid he scared her off.

Instead, Sanford shakes her head. "Come here," she whispers, capturing his lips again.

And it's much more burning than before—Rhysand eases her lips open and slides his tongue inside her mouth, and his hands wander below her shirt, the waistband of her jeans, to her bottom.

Sanford pulls back and gasps. "You just touched my b-butt."

Rhysand has to laugh. Amused, he keeps it there and squeezes. Sanford's reaction is a surprised yelp and a crushing grip on his forearm. "It's a very sexy butt. And I've done it before—when you sucked my finger into your mouth."

She slaps him on the chest as heat rises to her cheeks. "Rhysand!"

"Relax," he says, pulling her down to him again. "Kiss me."

Sanford does.

He loves it—loves her taste, the way she sounds, her weight on him—he loves all of it. Rhysand's hands move to her neck, and his thumbs brush her throat, but then Sanford crushes herself into his chest and shifts on his lap, and shit, Rhysand pulls away and groans, hands flying down to her hips. "Sunshine," he pants, swallowing hard.

Sanford hums and kisses him again, fingers clutching his hair as she moves forward.

Rhysand lets out another groan and stills her hips. "Stop moving," he rasps, breathing heavily. "Stop moving—f-fuck."

She immediately pulls back and stops. "Sorry," she mutters, looking completely mortified and confused. "Did I do something wrong?"

"It's fine," Rhys chokes out, clearing his throat as he leans his head back and closes his eyes. "It's fine, I was just surprised."

Sanford looks concerned. She starts to get off his lap. "Should I—"

"Fuck, don't," Rhysand growls, tightening his grip on her. "Just don't move for a sec."

Sanford purses her lips, and Rhysand watches her—sees the way her eyes smile first, and then how the corners of her mouth follow, and then she's giggling and Rhysand's head is swarming because, well, fuck—she's beautiful.

"What?" he murmurs.

She shakes her head, still grinning, and strands of her hair fall across her face. "It's just funny."

"Your face is funny."

She rolls her eyes. "Very mature."

"Hug me," he demands.

"You told me not to move."

"Hug me then move off of my lap. Else I might not want to stop."

Sanford lets out an embarrassed squeak. "Okay," she mutters, carefully sliding her arms around his neck.

Rhysand breathes in as he buries his head on her neck. Kisses her pulse point gently. "Thank you."

She doesn't need to ask what for—and this. This is what he needs.

So he thought he'd be okay. He should be.

But they're always going out after water polo for lunch and it annoys the shit out of him. And one weekend, while cuddled on the sofa watching a movie, Rhysand can't help but notice Sanford checking her phone every once in a while. He's biting his tongue to keep from saying something, but his irritation gets to the best of him when Sanford asks him to pause the movie and leaves for the bathroom and Rhysand is grabbing her phone.

Bash's last text reads come to the track competition, then and see me in action. I'm the fastest one there ;)

A fucking winky face. Rhysand bites the inside of his cheek and throws the phone with more force than necessary on the cushion.

Sanford walks in. "Were you looking at my phone again?" she asks quietly, eyebrows drawn together.

"I wanted to see what was so important," Rhysand starts, unable to keep his anger in, "that you'd check on it every five seconds."

She blinks, taken aback. "I'm sorry, I just thought it'd be rude if I didn't reply—"

"He's flirting with you," Rhysand says, standing up. Sanford looks so confused. "Still. Knowing you're in a relationship. Do you fucking understand that?"

She visibly stiffens. She looks down at the floor and In a small voice, she says, "Don't swear at me."

Rhysand wants to pull his hair out. "I wasn't—"

"And he's not flirting with me," Sanford says flatly, meeting his gaze. "We're friends, Rhys. Just that. I made that clear."

"Then why is there a fucking winky face—"

"What, friends can't use an emoji anymore?" Sanford bites out, voice breaking. Her hands curl into fists by her side. "Here." She grabs the phone and almost shoves it in Rhysand's chest. "Read it. Read the messages and see if we were flirting."

Sanford—Sanford has never been like this.

It almost throws him off guard, but when he registers the absolute hurt in her face and eyes as she waits for him to do so, Rhysand clenches his jaw and puts the phone down. "I'm not going to read it. If you say you weren't flirting, then," he takes a deep breath, "I believe you." I should.

Sanford stares at him.

Rhysand is making a big fucking deal over her friend. Jesus. "I'm sorry," he mutters, rubbing his forehead. "I shouldn't have looked at your phone."

"And I'm sorry I was rude," she says, plopping down on the couch to hug him. "But you don't have anything to worry about—Bash knows his place. And I don't have many friends, so I want to keep our friendship. He's a good person. And I want to continue being friends with Piper and Sam, too."

It's fucking sad that Sanford has to tell him this. Rhysand grits his teeth. "Okay."

Sanford smiles at him. "Can we finish watching the movie, please?"

Rhysand nods, thankful she let it go, and presses play.