You stand there, speechless.

You have no idea how to handle this, and it feels so pathetic, that you wind up just staring helplessly while Dex and Scott commence the conversational equivalent of two wolves circling each other and sizing up the fight.

In your peripheral vision you see Scott flash you another look that makes you feel like he expected you to speak up in his defense and is hurt and disappointed that you haven't done so. But you've been best friends with Dex far too long not to hear out his side of whatever this is, no matter how unhinged or unstable things might look with no context. You pretend not to notice that look, because Scott should trust you to be fair with your two favorite people, and you shouldn't have to pick sides, and also you're too buzzed right now to navigate that stuff and continue not bursting into tears.

"Sincerity, he says," Scott bites off, when you don't come to his aid, air-quoting and packing a whole lot of venom into that short sentence. "And, she trusts you," he mimics Dex in an insulting, high pitched voice, still air-quoting. "That's pretty rich. You know. Considering." He jerks his head toward you in a way that feels ominously significant. "Fucking hypocrite," he mutters, never taking his eyes off Dex.

You open your mouth again, thinking you really ought to make them sit down and explain everything, then realize you have no idea how even to begin, and you're actually in the first situation of your whole life where you're afraid that you saying the wrong thing might mean they wind up simply physically attacking each other.

"I trusted you, too, Scott," Dex says with equal rancor, then turns to you without warning and says, "It's my fault you got arrested, Birdie."

You let out a startled little gasp and sink back into your chair, even though that probably is the most ridiculously pathetic victim-y thing you could have done, and babyish looking to boot.

"It's my fault you got charged with underage everything," he goes on before you can form a coherent thought. "It's my fault your parents don't trust you and that you spent five months grounded and eating shit every single day. And I don't mean indirectly like, I failed to stop something from happening. I mean I took a deliberate action that created that consequence for you, and then I hid it from you for months, because I was ashamed, and because I love you, and I was scared to lose you from my life if you learned the truth. But he's right. I'm a fucking liar too and I don't get to pretend otherwise."

You stare at him, the blood rushing so loud in your ears you can hardly hear yourself think. "Teddy? What do you mean it was your fault?" you whisper.

There's a short silence, while he and Scott glare at each other, and then Dex says takes a deep breath in and says, "I texted your dad and told him I was worried about you because you didn't want to leave this big party with a shit fuck ton of booze," he pauses here and looks deliberately at Scott, then back to you, "and you were with somebody questionable who I was concerned might take advantage of a person in a **** state."

"I... don't understand," you say, feeling completely lost, and not even knowing what part of that to pick apart first. "Dad called the cops on me? On the party, I mean?"

"No," he says miserably. "Your mom did. I figured your dad would go over there and yell at a few people and drag your ass home and let it stay between the two of you. But your mom saw the text before him and I guess she thought calling the cops would be a terrific scared-straight experience."

You swallow hard. "But..." you say, foundering for a reaction that feels appropriate to this strange confession. "But you did it to protect me," you manage finally, trying to fight down the awful, sick feeling in the pit of your stomach. "You had no way to know what would actually happen."

Dex looks supremely not proud of himself as he corrects you. "I wish that was true other than the not knowing. I mean, I think I told myself it was to help you, at the time? But I'm pretty sure the real reason I actually went through with it was that I was angry."

"At me?" you ask numbly. "You were angry at me? For drinking?"

He shakes his head. "At him," he jerks his head toward Scott, "for general fuckery, and okay. Probably, unfairly, at you too... for I guess not being telepathic and reading both our minds and deciding that there were sides and you belonged on mine."

"And... this secret? This is why you've been so out of sorts all this year?" you ask uncertainly.

"Part of it, anyway. Believe me, it did such wonders for my mood, him holding this over my head like a fucking blackmailer the last almost six months." He casts Scott, who has remained frostily silent this whole time, a vicious look.

"Wait, you knew?" you ask Scott in dismay. "This whole time? And you didn't tell me either? Is this some kind of bro code thing?" you ask blankly, then realize it can't be that or else Dex wouldn't have said that thing about ****, and further, that if you don't stop asking questions he won't have a chance to answer any of them.

When Scott doesn't answer or even look in your direction, Dex offers, "Less bro code, and more, mutually assured destruction." There's a short silence, and then he announces to no one in particular, "Since I'm fucking blitzed right now and I already blew up my most important relationship, I'm going to take another mean-spirited pot shot: one hundred percent odds that Scott doesn't know what mutually assured destruction is."

He might actually be right, but you're distracted from that when Scott snarls, "The ego on this fucking self-satisfied prick! I can't believe I actually used to like you, Dex."

"Oh yeah?" Dex raises the highball glass and finishes it off, then sets it down on the table a bit too hard and looks at you both, wobbling a little on his feet in a way that makes you stand up again with the vague notion of steadying him. "Well, Scott," he says, with a small, but extravagant, gesture of magnanimity, "you're in good company for once. It utterly blows my mind sometimes, how fucking much I used to love you."

You stare at him, knowing your mouth is hanging open, and still so surprised that you find yourself just standing there blinking. It's not that you can't imagine them as a couple. It's that... Dex tells you everything. And he definitely never told you he was in love with Scott.

You're still trying to parse that nuclear bomb, when he adds, "Thank fucking Christ that even if I lack similar good sense, Birdie at least hasn't let you stick your filthy dick in her yet," which makes your face so warm you're halfway surprised he doesn't feel the heat rolling off you and remark on it. You actually take an involuntary step backward.

Scott's the one who laughs aloud this time. "Funny how confident you are about that, when I dared her to go skinny dipping behind your back not half an hour ago and she wasted all of two seconds thinking about your feelings before saying yes. Say what you want about me, at least I'm likeable, and not a mopey, petulant little queen. Can you blame her for wanting to fool around with somebody whose company isn't a constant fucking dreary slog?" He looks at Dex with a kind of grim triumph that really rubs you the wrong way, like he thinks that riposte at your expense amounts to some kind of win.

"Scott..." Dex says before you can cut in, then sighs heavily in a way you know means, this conversation does not feel fucking worth it anymore. "Whatever. The only point of that was to be insulting to you. Of course she said yes. She loves you. Like, really cares about you. You get that, right? This isn't some shitty game for her any more than it was for me."