“I’m immature? You’re too afraid to be seen talking to me. Are we done?” It was funny. All this time, I’d been through so many emotions. Hurt. Betrayal. Sadness. Acceptance. Maybe a bit—okay, maybe a lot—of longing. But I hadn’t been angry. At least, I hadn’t realized I was so angry. Here I was, however, bubbling right up and over. Pissed off as all hell.
“We haven’t even started. Can you give me a chance to explain?”
A chance? We’d been talking for at least five minutes now.
“… Ollie?”
“Yes, I’m listening, whatever. Go.”
“I wasn’t ignoring you, I swear. My parents caught me coming home that night and went nuts. They confiscated my phone, I wasn’t allowed to touch my laptop, nothing. For three weeks. It was ridiculous.”
Yeah, yeah, I knew all this. I considered pointing out that he’d
