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subtle.
    Tension builds in her brow. She’s sitting cross-legged on her bed as we speak, and she’s looking around like she’s trying to figure out the right words to say. “Char…I’m not gonna lie. Yes, we’re friends. But if it makes you feel better, it’s strained. It will never be the same as it was before.”
    “Why would you even want to be friends with someone like her?” I sound like a whiny twelve year old, but I don’t care. She’s supposed to be on my side.
    “If you remember correctly, we were all friends at one time.”
    Regrettably, that’s true. From kindergarten to the end of grade school, the three of us were inseparable. Middle school broke apart our happy little threesome though. It was around that time that Gwen became a heartless, two-faced, backstabbing bottom-feeder.
    “I try not to remember.”
    “Well, it’s true. And I’m not trying to defend her, but you did steal Miles from her first.”
    “Oh, please,” I scoff. “Miles would’ve had to belong to her in order for me to steal him.”
    “But you knew how much she liked him. She told you she was planning to ask him to the seventh grade dance, remember? But you stepped in and asked him first.”
    I swallow, remembering the bratty teenage version of myself. I did know Gwen liked Miles back then, and yeah, maybe going after him at the time was wrong, but I was an immature kid. Miles and I have been through so much together since then. We were planning to get married after graduation. We planned to spend our lives together. It doesn’t compare.
    “I’m sorry,” Dahlia says, after a few awkward moments of silence. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”
    “No, it’s okay. I just can’t talk about him anymore. It’s been four months. I need to let it go, let him go. That’s part of why I’m here—to figure out who I am without Miles. Everyone back home automatically links us together. When they think of me, they think of him, and vice versa. I really needed to detach from that persona.”
    “I understand.”
    All at once, my eyes begin to droop, fatigue hitting me hard. I look down at my suitcases, thinking I should probably unpack, but even that sounds like a challenge. “I should go,” I say, stifling a yawn.
    “Okay, but let’s do this again. Soon. It was nice.”
    “I agree,” I say with a smile.
    As soon as we disconnect, I fall face first into the bed, not even bothering to untuck the comforter. The bed feels like heaven. Only seconds later, I’m asleep.

SIX
     
    Max
     
     
    “So who’s the girl?” Trevor asks me almost as soon as we switch on the Xbox, putting in the new Call of Duty: Modern Warfare . Whenever he wants to grill me about something, he knows his best chance at getting info is while we’re playing video games. A distraction tactic.
    “Her name’s Charlotte. You met her.”
    “Obviously. But how do you know her?”
    “Save your interviewing for the website, Trev. It won’t work on me—shoot the guy to your right.”
    “What guy?”
    Trevor’s player runs around, shooting chickens. I shake my controller toward the TV screen, getting more and more irritated by the second. “You’re giving away both our positions. Are you trying to get us killed?”
    “Dude, I know what I’m doing. Throw your threat grenade so we can see the enemy.”
    We get through two missions before Trevor brings up Charlotte again. The bastard waits until we’re in a critical moment to catch me off guard. He’s working an angle; I can feel it.
    “I pay rent here too, you know. Don’t you think you should tell me why we have a new roomie?”
    I glance at him from the side, raising a brow. “You don’t pay rent here.”
    “Yes, I do. You know…perk of the job? My bonus for being editor in chief?”
    The enemy shoots at us. I send my player diving for cover just as Trevor’s player dies. “First of all, that’s not your title, Trev. You didn’t want to work in the office, so I gave the position to