For the first time since Dylan and I were in kindergarten, Row didn’t pay me any attention. Didn’t tug my braid with a teasing smirk, sneak me the last piece of cherry pie, or give me a piggyback ride upstairs, purposefully banging me against the wall to make me laugh. Every time I visited my best friend and he was there, he’d award me with a silent nod and walk off. I was air, invisible and unnoteworthy. To make matters worse, my traitorous hormones decided to notice him. I’d always known Row Casablancas was hot in the same way I always knew the sun was—you needed to be a moron not to
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