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was not used to the biting responses from her.  This new no-nonsense side of Rachel was a surprise. 
     
         And freaking hot. 
     
         I had to leave!  Now!
     
         “Yeah.  Good idea.  Later, Rach,” I said quickly, pulling open the front door and dashing outside.  Yep, I ran away.  Like a little bitch.
     
                                                            
     
         Things were not going well.  Ever since our almost kiss three days ago, Rachel and I have been at each other's throats.  Her patience for all things Daniel Lowe seemed to be at an end.  I could practically taste her annoyance as we sat together during lunch. 
     
         Maggie hadn't shown up yet, so it was just Rachel and me.  Together.  Being agonizingly silent as we ate our lunch and tried not to choke on the tension that seemed to have blossomed between us. 
     
         It seriously sucked.
     
         “Rach...” I started to say.  I wasn't exactly sure what was about to come out of my mouth.  It could have been a plea for her forgiveness.  An apology for all of my assy behavior over the years. 
     
         It could have been a verbal attack toward her icy chill. 
     
         Or it could have been a confession.  One that seemed harder to keep from bursting out.  The truth of why I ran out on her three days ago.  The reason I was finding it hard to sit so close to her and not touch her.  And the fact that I could barely look at Kylie without imaging my best friend instead.  How the only lips I wanted to taste and touch were Rachel Marie Bradfield's. 
     
         I had it bad.
     
         Rachel looked up at me as I said her name.  Her brown eyes cool in a way that I hated.  I needed to put an end to this rift between us.  I needed to man up and share how screwed up I was over her. 
     
         Or I could suck it all back down into the dark pit inside of me and pretend it didn't exist. 
     
         Obviously, the latter was the most appropriate form of action.
     
         “Can I have the rest of your fries?” I asked her, inching my fingers toward her lunch tray.  Rachel rolled her eyes but pushed her food toward me.  I plucked a few of the fried pieces of my denial off her plate and stuffed them into my mouth. 
     
         “What the heck is up with our girl?” Rachel asked in amusement, looking up from her phone and over my shoulder.  I turned around and started laughing as Maggie limped her way across the cafeteria.  She held her legs rigid, her face in a grimace as she finally reached our table.
     
         “What?” Maggie asked, her tone making it very clear she didn't want to hear whatever we had to say.  She was not a happy camper.
     
         “Nothing.”  Rachel said diplomatically as she shoved her hamburger into her mouth.  Rachel didn't deal well with confrontation of any sort.  Well, unfortunately for Maggie May, I had no such qualms.
     
        “Why are you moving like an old lady, Mags?  You look ridiculous.”  I chuckled, watching my other best friend shoot daggers at me with her eyes.  Oh if looks could kills.  She pulled a chip from her bag and chucked it at me.  I dodged it easily and laughed.  She really did look pathetic.
     
         Maggie proceeded to tell us that she had cut cross-country practice.  Not once, not twice, but three times.  I tried not to gape at her in surprise.  If there was one thing about Mags, it was that she was unwaveringly consistent.  She had her routine, her schedule.  She understood that responsibility was not to be taken lightly.  She was a rock of predictability. 
     
          But now, I looked at the brown-haired girl sitting across from me as though I didn't even know her.  And then I realized why she was skipping practice.  Or more specifically for who.
     
         And the who showed up right then, looking like a