“In a couple hours, and she told me everything.”

“Madison, don’t.”

I look up to see Tally walking toward us.

“Memphis, did you ever find my phone?”

“Shit, Tales.” I run my hand through my hair. “Give me a second. I’ll—”

I stop when she nods and then heads to my room, seeing the laundry basket of clean clothes sitting on my bed. I only brought one change of clothes when I left, and I need a change, so I pull my shirt off, then grab a white tank out of the basket of folded clothes and throw it on.

I dig through the clothes and find her phone. “Fuck.”

“You found it?” I hear her behind me and spin around.

“Yeah.” I feel anxious. “Look, Tales, we’ll get you a new one if this one is shit now. And please don’t leave. Mads will be … well, mad, and I feel like shit about—” I stop when I see her eyes widen, and her mouth make a little O. “Who is your phone provider? I’ll call right after I call and have your flight changed back. You can’t leave, Tales. Come on.”

“I can’t stay,” she says in a more hostile tone than I expected.

“Please, Tales. I’m sorry, okay?”

“You don’t get to say sorry, Memphis. I slapped you. I got drunk. I let you”—the way she says you is like a kick to the nuts, the disdain nearly taking my breath away—“make me sleep in that bed.” She points at said bed and then stops.

I see tears pool in her eyes, and the pain in my chest is worse than the one that felt like a kick.

“I need to leave.”

“No. No, you don’t. I won’t say a word. I won’t do a damn thing. I want you two to have fun.” I go to reach out to grab her hands, and she jumps back. “Tales, come on; it’s me. I promise. My word is good, okay?”

She turns to walk away.

“Tales, tell me you’ll stay.”

“Tell me you’ll leave me the hell alone,” she retorts as she walks out.

“Thank you,” I call behind her.

When the door shuts, I about bust up laughing. She said hell.

I walk in the bathroom and grab my toothbrush, the one Tales used. I squirt some paste on it and look in the mirror.

“Da fuck!” I say as I see the fucking hickies and scratch marks all over my neck. “Son. Of. A. Bitch.”

There is a knock on the door when Madison is in the shower. I hesitate, not wanting to see him. Fearing I will stare at the … love marks all over him.

I hate that I allowed myself to believe for only a short time that he was interested in me. I hate that I wasted a year daydreaming about that stupid night.

There is another knock, and then the door opens. “Tales?”

“Oh, sorry.” I stand up and straighten my shirt. He notices, and his lips curl up, but there is no smile in his eyes.

“What’s that guy’s name? The one with the crazy orange hair on your shirt, the one—”

“Beaker,” I answer.

“Right, meep meep?” He smirks, handing me a box.

“What is it?” I ask as I look down. “Oh, no. No way.”

“Yours was ruined,” he says, pushing the box with the Apple logo on it back toward me.

“This is way too much.”

“Renter’s insurance,” he answers quickly.

“Oh, come on, Memphis. An hour after my phone shows up damaged, the insurance company—”

He nods his head, and I shake mine.

“Fine, but the claim’s been filed, so I’ll get the cash back. Just take the phone, Tales. You need it.”

“Renter’s insurance?”

“Yeah.” His eyes shift, and I am almost certain he’s full of bologna. “Same number, but they couldn’t retrieve the contacts.” He sighs. “Tales, just take the phone.”

“I—”

“Please?”

“Fine, but how did you do it without my permission? I mean—”

“I can be pretty persuasive.”

“Yeah.” I nod, looking down at the box in my hand. “My old plan was grandfathered in, so I should call them and—”

“No need to call; it’s the same plan.” I give him a questioning look. “Okay, it’s not, but you just give me, like, ten bucks a month and—” I try to hand it back to him. “Nope. It’s yours.”

Madison walks out of the bathroom, toweling her hair off. “Is he pissing you off?”

I shake my head. “He needs to take back the phone.”

“Oh, wow,” she says, looking at the box then at him. “Feeling like a douche? Don’t forget you pretty much ruined my first couple days of this vacation, too. Making my best friend cry and—”

“Madison,” I say quietly, closing my eyes and wishing I was invisible.

“I’ll take it in diamonds and—”

“Mads, I told her I was sorry. Now I’ll say it to you, and then we move the fuck on, got it?”

“Fine,” she huffs.

“I can’t take this phone. It’s too expensive, and I am sure ten dollars a month is not truly what it costs, anyway.”

“It is. Mine’s on his plan, so are our parents. He gets a discount because he is affiliated with Steel Inc., and it’s an added line.” She looks at Memphis. “But I don’t think she owes dick a month.”

“I don’t care about the money,” he huffs.

“Oh, that’s right, Mr. Bigtime,” Madison says in an exaggerated tone as she grabs her clothes and walks in the bathroom. “You’re taking us out to dinner tonight.”

She shuts the door, and I am left looking at the box in my hand and trying not to look at him.

“Where do you wanna go, Tales?”

“I really don’t want to go out.” I shake my head and look up at him.

“I’m really sorry. I crossed a few lines.”

I nod, then shrug. “I have never hit anyone in my life.” I swallow down the guilt and clear my throat.

“I deserved it,” he says, searching my face.

I’m not sure if he’s waiting for a smile, for tears, or for me to tell him he didn’t deserve it. Therefore, I give him a true version of the latter.

“No one deserves to be hit.”

His eyes scrunch together.

“What?” I ask, knowing he wants to say something.

He shakes his head. “Nothing, Tales. Thanks for the apology. Please accept mine.”

With that, he looks at me for a few more excruciatingly silent moments and then walks to the door.

“Phone’s charged. Mads can show you how to use it if you don’t know how.” And then he walks out the door.

I am left with an iPhone Six in my hands, the big one, too. It’s huge, probably too big, definitely too expensive, and he won’t take it back.

When Madison and I walk out, we can hear the guys on the patio. I go to the sink to grab a glass of water and see River in the pool, floating around with sticks in his hand. Finn is sitting on the edge of the chaise, strumming a bass guitar. Billy is seemingly playing the invisible keyboard on his lap, and Memphis is sitting opposite Finn, strumming an acoustic. I can hear him singing. His voice isn’t the booming onstage rocker voice; it’s softer.

“Might as well shit-can the idea of going out.” Madison looks over my shoulder.

“Why?”

“He’s been in a funk for a while now, and it looks to me like he’s out of it.” She smiles adoringly in his direction.

“A funk?”

“Finn’s written almost all of the lyrics.”

“Since when?”

“Since we went away that spring break, right before going on tour with Burning Souls. He doesn’t say anything to me, of course, but he told our father he thinks the road took something from him, and he’s been looking for it ever since.” She looks at me and rolls her eyes. “Mostly between chicks’ legs, but …” She shrugs, as if to say whatever.

I grab a glass of water and drink it down.

“You wanna go listen?”

“Should we interrupt?” I ask, thinking it’s a bad idea.

“Give him a few minutes.” She starts opening drawers until she finds what she’s looking for and then pulls out a pile of take-out menus. “Let’s order dinner.”

We order Mexican—it’s always been Madison’s favorite—quietly as we listen to Steel Total Destruction play in the background.