“I owe you an apology for assuming your life was all butterflies and rainbows. It makes me feel crappy that you probably get that a lot. Assumptions about who you are. Judgments.”
Cam’s fingers drum the tablecloth. “Thank you. But that wasn’t a question.”
How does he know I want to ask him something? Probably the same way he knows most other things: he’s observant.
I want to ask him if he’s happy. I want to ask him if he has any real friends. If that’s what he meant when he said we’d never be friends—because everyone wants something from him, including me.
How can I honestly claim to want to be his friend? A true friendship isn’t based on what you think you can get out of it. It’s based on respecting someone enough to let him be who he really is. A true friend is someone who says “I’m
