Half a minute later, Verity's phone on my desk lit up, displaying a message from Colton: [Wow, Verity! You’re beyond generous and so thoughtful! Not only did you get me the game console, but you also loaded up on all the games. I’ll have to hit the gym harder to repay you—blushing over here!]
Arriving home well past eleven, I quietly entered the bedroom to gather my belongings.
Just then, Verity strolled in, her hair damp from the shower, and paused. Her gaze fell on the thinned-out clothes in the closet, the emptiness echoing the growing distance between us.
Frowning, Verity said, “Tyron, send me your measurements. I’m off to Paris for a business trip next month, and I’ll pick you up a couple of new suits.”
I waved my hand dismissively, replying without much thought, “No need. I don’t care about brands.”
The truth was, I was leaving soon anyway, so it hardly seemed worth the trouble.
Throwing the towel onto the bed, Verity shot me a cold glance and remarked, “Is this because I bought the wrong breakfast? Are you still sulking over that?”
I blinked, poised to explain that I wasn’t angry at all. But she scoffed, cutting me off. “Tyron, you are petty and unrefined.”