I’m about to answer when I see Matt over Beau’s shoulder. He’s standing at the edge of the patio staring at me, slack-jawed, drunk, and devastated. Not Beau’s Matt.

My Matt. I’m sure of it.

“I need to talk to you,” he shouts over the noise.

Everything’s exactly as it was a second and ago, and yet completely different. The dance team are gathered on the chaise lounges, Rachel among them as if she never left, her hair its usual glossy brown. We’re back in my world now.

Beau turns to look at Matt and must make the same realization because he doesn’t say anything. He looks back to me. “I’ll just be a minute,” I tell him, surprising myself with my decision.

He nods once. I make my way to the steps and climb out of the pool, dripping and shivering in the slight hint of breeze. Matt takes off toward the driveway without a word, and I follow him, my face hot from embarrassment and anxiety.

The Dillhorns’ floodlights are on out front, illuminating the elaborate planter-covered mound in the center of the grandiose driveway. Matt stalks halfway to the street before he turns back to me. He opens his mouth but no sound comes out, and he angrily spins away again. When he faces me again, his eyes are watery, and my chest clenches with guilt. “Why are you doing this?” he says.

I take a deep breath and try to stay calm, unemotional. “Doing what?”

He thrusts an arm out in the direction of the backyard. “Who is that guy? Why would you bring him here, when you knew I was going to be here? Why would you—” He cuts himself off and takes a few more stumbling steps down the slope toward his car.

“I thought you were going to stop drinking,” I say quietly.

“I thought you loved me,” he throws back.

“Really?” I shout. “Did you also think you loved me?”

“I do love you,” he growls. “I love you, and you’re ruining my life. You threw me out like trash, and I still don’t even know why. Do you even know why? Because one day you loved me, and the next you didn’t want me anymore, and you’ve never given me a straight answer why. And you know the worst part? I’ve still loved you this whole time, even though it’s killing me, and then you show up here with some random guy and kiss him right in front of me.”

“Matt, please,” I sob, lunging for his hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were going to be here, I swear. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“It’s my best friend’s party!”

“I know, but—”

“Stop!” he yells, shaking me off. “You were all I wanted. You’re all I’ve ever wanted, and I’m nothing to you.”

I shake my head. “That’s not true.” The tears are breaking loose harder, faster, warping my voice worse with each syllable. “I love you, Matt. You know I love you.”

“I don’t know that,” he says, shaking his head. He turns and heads for his car, throwing the door open.

I chase after him. “Matt, I’ll leave. You shouldn’t drive right now.”

I almost scream when he grabs my upper arms and shoves me against the side of the car. “Stop pretending you care what I do.”

“You don’t have to leave,” I say, breathless, trying to touch his shoulders, to calm him, though he keeps knocking my hands away. “I’ll go. I’ll leave. I’m sorry.”

His fingers dig in deeper, and his eyes are unfocused as he slams my back against the car door again. “How could you do this to me?” he shouts. “Tell me why you ruined us.”

“Matt, please.” His hands are shaking, or I’m shaking, or both, and tears blur my vision. “You’re hurting me.”

“Tell me why.” He slams me backward again. Hard, too hard. Stars swirl behind my eyelids. I’m not hurt, but I’m shocked, scared, shivering madly. His mouth is an inch from mine, and I’m terrified he might try to kiss me, when suddenly someone rips him backward into the street.

He staggers to gain his balance and moves toward Beau, who throws a punch to Matt’s cheek and sends him reeling back again. Next thing I know, there’s an all-out brawl in the middle of the street, and kids come running down the side of the lawn to see. “Stop!” I shriek, but they ignore me.

Beau has his arms locked around Matt’s neck, and then he’s kneeing him in the stomach. I try to haul Beau off Matt, screaming all the time. “Beau, stop,” I’m sobbing over and over again. Matt trips backward and lands on the ground, breathing hard as Beau advances on him. “Beau,” I plead.

He stops, turns to face me, and wipes the back of his hand across his mouth.

Matt scrambles up, blood dripping from his lips and the split across his check, and stumbles toward his car. The whole time he’s staring at me, furious, shaking his head. He gets in his car and pulls away, his tires squealing.

I don’t know how long I stand there. I don’t know which version I’m in anymore. Does it even matter?

I finally turn to head back, finding Beau and a hushed crowd of my classmates watching me.

“Take me home.”

Beau walks over to his truck and gets in without a word. I follow, my legs wobbling like Jell-O in an earthquake and my eyes desperately avoiding everyone staring after us as we back down the driveway.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I say.

“Yes, I did.” His voice is low and he’s driving fast, won’t look at me.

“You should’ve stayed out of it.” He laughs harshly. “I’m serious, Beau. You really hurt him.”

He shakes his head. “You mean like he was gonna do to you?”

“He wouldn’t have hurt me,” I insist, though I’m still shaking, still seeing the unfocused, almost bloodthirsty look in Matt’s eye.

“Natalie, you really don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what?”

“Forget it,” he says. Neither of us speaks for the rest of the drive, and when we pull up in front of my house, he turns the car off, and we continue to sit in silence. Finally, Beau speaks, without looking up from the steering wheel. “I may drink too much and get into fights now and then, but I would never hurt you, or anyone else I care about. You don’t deserve that. No one does. You shouldn’t be scared of someone you love, Natalie.”