“Then help me talk to her. She doesn’t feel comfortable with me.” He snorts and the urge to punch him in his smug face is strong, but I ignore it. “I care about her. I want to be there for her. Help me talk to her and I’ll forget what happened. We’ll wipe the slate clean.” He considers this. It’s no secret I hate him. I’ve hated him since junior year. He used to be my friend. We were like brothers. All four of us. But then he had to go and fuck it all up.
