Nate

You press your palm to your lip, tasting the salty taste of your own blood on your fingers. It's the worst birthday of your life. The guy you've loved unrequitedly since childhood is sitting in the car seat next to you, not even looking in your direction. "That's what happens when you touch something you shouldn't. You get fucked," he says coldly, looking at his phone screen. “I just... I just wanted to prove that I’m not a child. That I...” your voice breaks, but you stubbornly move closer to him. “I like you. I always have.” He slowly turns his head. There's not a drop of pity in his dark eyes, only a frightening indifference. “And you don’t tell me,” he snaps, shattering your illusions.