“Give me your phone.” “Why?” I ask, sweat starting to form on the back of my neck. “I want to see it.” “Look at your own phone,” I reply. “No, I want to look at yours because if I’m not correct about you fucking up with Lia, then there’s nothing to hide, right?” He wiggles his fingers. “Hand over your phone.” “Yeah, good one,” JP says, now taking a seat next to Huxley. “Hand him your phone.” “No, that’s stupid.” I fold my arms, knowing they’re closing in on me. “What’s stupid is your denial,” Huxley says. “So hand us the fucking phone or admit you fucked things up.” “I didn’t fuck things up,”
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