A second later we both fall into the pool.

I sputter up water as I come to the surface. I barely have a chance to gather my bearings before an equally drenched Oakley is swimming toward me.

Face full of anger, he punches the water. “If you think I’m gonna stand by and let you ruin the lives of all the women I care about, you’re even crazier than I thought you were.”

I ignore the thick rush of jealousy pushing through my veins because what I have to tell him is important.

I might have taken those videos, but I never put them up on any porn sites.

I also never hooked up with Zack.

Which means the bitch is lying her ass off.

And the fact that he would believe her over me…hurts.

Far more than I thought it would.

“Hate to break it to you, Oakley, but your precious Hayley—”

Eyes narrowing, he backs me against the wall of the pool. “You better stay the hell away from her.”

His voice is so full of malice my insides twist.

I jut my chin in challenge. “And if I don’t?”

Long fingers hover around my throat, ready to squeeze.

“Do it,” I dare.

Hand still wrapped around my neck, he leans in until his lips brush over my ear. “Is that what it will take?” His warm breath and deep voice caress my skin as he slides his palm down my torso and hitches my leg around his waist. “If I give in and fuck you will you stop your bullshit?”

The answer stalls in my throat when his mouth finds my collarbone.

My heart kicks up as his teeth nip at the column of my throat, sending a pulse of heat between my legs.

I claw at his back when he grinds against me and I can feel how much he wants this.

Wants me.

“Yes,” I concede, my mind and heart racing as his hips meet mine again. “F—”

A callous laugh cuts me off. “Too bad, baby girl.” His smile is downright vicious. “It will never fucking happen.”

A moment later, he trudges out of the pool.

Taking my heart and pride with him.

I’m not too proud to admit my anger is fueled by pure jealousy.

The fact that he would protect Hayley, yet won’t even give me the chance to explain my side of things—not that I can tell him—has me shaking with rage.

And the need for revenge.

Fortunately, I spot the perfect opportunity to exact it when I watch from my bedroom window as Oakley leaves the following afternoon.

After stealing the spare key out of a kitchen drawer…I slip out the patio door and trot over to the guesthouse.

Armed with lighter fluid and matches.

Oakley might care about Hayley…but there’s something else he cares about even more.

Weed.

I do a quick sweep of the living room but come up empty.

Gritting my teeth, I make my way into his bedroom.

The king-sized bed is unmade and there are random articles of clothing on the floor, but it’s the small notebook on his bed that snags my attention.

The one he never lets anyone see.

My mouth drops open when I take a look inside.

Traces of you

Traces of me

What a beautiful tragedy we could be.

Heart in my throat, I quickly flip to another page.

I’m dirty

You’re clean

All the lines in between

If only I’d let you in

Maybe then I’d truly be seen.

Holy shit. Oakley writes poems.

And I don’t mean a few words that rhyme.

His words make you feel something.

I have to remind myself that not only would it be wrong to steal his notebook so I can read them all—but I need to get this little mission over with before I lose my nerve.

I quickly place the book back where I found it and search all the nooks and crannies of his room, looking for his stash.

I find it in a hamper in his closet—and holy shit—there’s a lot of it.

After hauling what easily feels like three pounds of marijuana to his bathroom, I set to work dumping it in his tub and pouring lighter fluid all over it.

Then I strike a match and drop it.

Take that, bastard.

I’m all smiles as I watch the flames flicker…

Until I notice the tub is melting, and the fire is growing.

Shit.

Panic crawls up my spine as the bathroom starts to resemble a Post Malone concert.

I can’t even turn on the faucet because the fire is so bad.

Grabbing a towel, I try fanning the flames down, but that only makes them worse.

My stomach roils. Oh, God.

The terror trapped inside my esophagus is the size of a softball.

“Jesus,” someone who sounds a lot like Oakley barks as their arm goes around my waist. “What the fuck, Bianca?”

“I didn’t mean to do this,” I tell him on an exhale as he yanks me out of the house. “I only meant to burn your weed.”

“It’s fucking fiberglass,” he barks before he grabs the fire extinguisher next to the grill and goes back inside.

Oh, shit.

I hear sirens looming in the distance when Oakley comes back. “It’s out.”

“I’m sorry—”

“Holy shit,” Jace yells as he runs over to us. “What the fuck happened?”

An equally alarmed Cole sprints out behind him. “Are you guys okay?”

“Yeah,” Oakley says. “Bathroom is fucked, but I managed to put the fire out before it destroyed the rest of the guesthouse.”

“That’s good.” Jace blows out a breath. “But how the hell did it—” Pausing mid-sentence, he inhales deeply. “Why does it smell like Coachella?”

Cole sniffs the air. “Jesus, Oak.” He sniffs again. “You trying to get the whole town high?”

Oakley glares at me.

Placing my hands on my hips, I leer at them. “What are you guys even doing here anyway?”

“We were here to smoke and chill with Oak.” Cole snorts. “But I guess that’s out of the question now.”

Oakley opens his mouth to speak, but a slew of firefighters rush into the back yard.

Along with our dad.

“Is everyone okay?”

I blink. “What are you doing here?”

“I was on my way home when the fire trucks passed me, and I got an alert on my phone.” Taking a deep breath, he makes a face. “Is that marijuana I smell?”

We all stay silent.

Dad scrubs a hand down his face as the firefighters run inside the guesthouse. “Look, Oakley, I was young once too, I get it. But I can’t have you getting so high you become reckless and start fires inside my guesthouse—”

“It wasn’t him,” I blurt out. Not only because I don’t want Oakley taking the rap for something I did, but because I don’t want him getting kicked out. “It was me.”

Three sets of eyes widen in surprise.

“What do you mean it was you?” my dad questions.

“Well,” I start. “I found Oakley’s weed and set it on fire in the bathtub.” I hold up a finger. “In my defense, I didn’t know the tub was made of fiberglass.”

That was definitely a not-so-pleasant surprise.