It’s not until I face Nate that I see his stiffened body. His hand pauses mid-air before his glass reaches his lips, visible hurt written across his face. “Thanks,” he mutters. “Nate, I…” My head shakes with instant remorse. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” “No, it’s fine.” His words are crisp. “But for all the times you say what a jerk I am, can we just remember that when it mattered to you, I didn’t say anything about your family? I just walked out of your parents' house and never brought it up again. But you…”—he turns to me with wounded eyes—“you wasted no time judging me and my
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