So they went to the dance together; started dating. She and Matt had always had this chemistry, always shared these inside jokes, and had been family friends since the dawn of time. They probably bonded further over their mutual hatred of my lovely mother. Matt turned into even more of a jerk than he’d been before—or maybe I just started noticing it more.

And here we are.

One big happy family.

Matt glances around. “This is the greenroom?”

I want to laugh in his face, because it’s clear he was expecting something…more. What a jackass. The band is playing a tiny club, not the fucking Staples Center. And considering this is the first gig they’ve played in almost a year, you’d think he’d tone down the diva act a little.

“It is…small.” Rosa must feel the need to proclaim her allegiance to Matt, but her voice is shaky. She slides off the chair. “Oh gross, what did I just sit in?” She has a giant stain on her butt. I almost feel bad for her.

“Babe, lemme see.” Matt takes one look and says, “All right, this room isn’t gonna work.”

“Jesus,” I mumble under my breath.

Matt’s head snaps around. “What was that?”

I sigh. “Nothing.”

“No, I heard you say something. Please repeat it. I’d just love to hear what you have to say, Teller.” He spits out my last name like it’s a curse. Which it might be, now that I think about it. “Wouldn’t you, Rosa?”

Rosa glances between us like she’s watching a horrible car accident she can’t find a way to stop.

She shrugs.

I hate her.

I clear my throat. “Nothing. It wasn’t important. I just said Jesus.”

“And whydja say that?”

I make a silent wish to be transported out of this room to literally anywhere else on earth, but it doesn’t work. What a shock.

I shrug. “No reason.”

Matt walks over and stands right in front of me. “No, I want to know.”

Conor’s on his feet now, watching. He always backs me up—has ever since we became friends in elementary school, and I know he always will.

But I’m sick of Conor fighting my fights.

So instead of shrinking away like I normally do, I stand up straight and lean toward Matt. I realize I have a solid four inches on him, something I’ve forgotten in the past few months of slumping through life.

I look down at him. “Maybe ’cause beggars shouldn’t be so choosy. You know?”

His face gets redder and redder. “Beggars?” He shakes his head. “Nah, man. Who do you think you are, calling me a beggar?”

“Okay, enough, guys. Break this shit up.” Conor is hopping up and down behind Matt, trying to get around him, between us.