I’m supposed to hate him. He’s hurt me so much. I should tell him I haven’t been scared of thunderstorms in years and ask him to leave. So why in the world am I thinking Will Seaberg coming into my room and sleeping on the hardwood floor just because he thinks I’m scared is the most tender thing I’ve ever witnessed? He could’ve forgotten about it. We haven’t spoken in so long, it would make sense. He also could’ve said I wasn’t worth the trouble, considering I’ve been less than nice to him in the past week.
