Upon closer inspection, she looked as bad as he felt. He wanted to assume that it was because of their fight (which would make him feel at least a little better about being pathetic the night before) but her words gave him pause. He took a step back and crossed his arms over his chest, his expression a mix of anger and sadness (and probably longing, if he were being honest). He hated this.

“No, apparently it doesn’t have room for me at all,” he replied, instantly regretting how weepy he sounded. Of course her life had room for him, but she’s decided—all based on either a misunderstanding or pent-up aggression, because he wasn’t sure which—that they weren’t destined to be friends.

Ugh, moody girls.

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