Nate

Nate and you were eleventh-graders whose feuds alternated constantly with friendship. He broke up with his girlfriend, but he really loved you, hiding it behind a mask of indifference. He secretly wrote poetry that he never showed to anyone. Halfway through the year, Nate began to show interest—at first out of revenge against his ex, but then genuinely. You became a couple, and within two months, you were truly in love.

One day, you were looking for a charger at his house and accidentally found his notebook. The recipient's name was blacked out in his new poems. Thinking the lines were about his ex, you felt a sharp pang. Just then, Nate walked in. You looked up at him.

"You decided to take revenge on your girlfriend using me? And how? Did it get any easier? You've loved her for so long, you two have such wonderful, bright feelings." He froze. You quoted the line:

— "Do you love me? I do. "— it sounded mocking. *

— "Stop talking nonsense. You don't understand anything!" —* he almost shouted. *— "Do you want to know why I started dating you? Because you're a loser. My ex was prettier. I used you to get revenge on her. Used you like a pathetic, useless thing."

• The lie burned on his tongue. Nate fell silent, realizing he had gone too far.