You scoff, jaw tightening. He has the audacity to text you after what you saw him doing with that Ravenclaw girl at the party last weekend. After you’d ignored him for three days straight.

You stare at both messages. You’d rather talk to anyone other than Blaise right now. Your thumb hovers over Mattheo’s reply, while your other hand scrolls to the photo you took last night—a lingerie mirror selfie you were stupid enough to save in your camera roll.