“How could you say that, Callum?” she cried, her voice muffled by my shirt. “I would never have hurt freckles! Never! She was my best—” She hiccuped. “Friend!”
Every instinct was screaming at me to hold her, to wrap her in my arms like any good boyfriend would and comfort her. But I couldn’t. Having her on me like this, sobbing into my shirt, soaking my skin with her tears… It just made me uncomfortable.
“What was her name?” I blurted out.
“Wh…What?”
“Your friend’s name. What was it?”
She paused, sniffling, and pulled her head back just enough to look at me. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, but her tears were too large. Something about the way her face twisted into the most perfect crying expression seemed too contrived.
“Why would you ask that?” she whispered.
