It’s Hamilton. I’m just—” “It’s not just Hamilton, okay?” “It’s not?” He looks at me helplessly. “How do you not get this? God, Ben.” My chest feels so tight it could burst. “You’ve been late for every single date. Every single one.” “I know. I’m—” “And you know what? If you were excited about seeing me, that wouldn’t happen. It wouldn’t. It’s like you don’t even care.” He looks at me like I’ve hit him. “I do care!” “But not enough. You don’t care enough.” I stare at him, heart pounding. “Maybe I should care less.”
