“He’s not that different, Luna,” Xander consoles. “He’s still there for us, and he’s still running circles around everyone in everything he tries for the first time.” I’m still having a hard time looking at Xander. He’s so much older now. So I stare at my cake while I say, “He is different.” I look up at Moffy. “You’re someone better.” His brows knit together, emotion bobbing his throat. In such a short time, I’ve come to realize this. He’s not easily triggered to fight anymore. He’s not speeding down highways. He’s not afraid of the media seeing his public affection or writing stories about
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