You crawled back to me ranting. Elodie had done something that pissed you off. You two had broken up again. You made no mention of us or our summer kisses or anything of the like. Even though I was right in front of you, listening, I didn't exist. 

I wasn't sure how you managed to do it. You only noticed I hadn't said a word about fifteen minutes into your rant. You'd stopped, eyebrows raised as you stared at me, baffled. "Hello? Earth to Eden?"

"I thought we were together," I'd blurted. It was the first bold thing I'd said to you. 

You looked befuddled, eyebrows knitted together. "What?"

I repeated what I'd said. "I thought we were together. And then, at the bonfire, you went off with Elodie."

Your mouth formed into a perfect 'o'. "I think you're confused," you'd said. You said it with this overly-sympathetic grin, as if you were entertaining a child far younger than you. 

"How?" I was losing the fire in my argument and set my sketchbook aside. 

"We're best friends."

It was as though you were speaking another language. "You kissed me." People who are only best friends don't kiss, that's for sure. I knew that then, and I know that now.

You had a way with words. "Yeah," you cocked your head to the side, agreeing. "But that doesn't mean we're together."

Your words felt like a slap across my face. I was an idiot. You'd never called me your girlfriend. And in that moment, you made me out to be the crazy one; the one creating an entire imaginary situation in her head. I was the confused one, the obsessive one. You almost had me convinced. You were good at convincing me. Now, I believe it had less to do with your word skills and more to do with my predisposition to lap up everything you said because I adored you.

I swallow. "Then why would you kiss me?"

"You wanted to kiss me," You spun the entire situation back on me. Then you laughed, like it was all some big joke.

"You said that I was the only girl you ever really liked," I replied. You didn't expect me to push back as much as I did that day. Usually, you'd leave me with some half-hearted excuse and I would take it without qualms. But today, I wasn't letting you re-write the story. 

You had nothing to say to that. You opened your mouth and closed it. 

"Or do you just say that to every girl you date?" I'd spat. I never snapped at you, but today, my words were coated with venom. All I could think about was the way you'd left me behind, the way you'd spent that evening with Elodie, the way you got back together with her right after.

"Jeez, Eden." You raised both of your hands. "Why are you getting so angry? I literally just got over a breakup and you're making it all about you." You shook your head. "Everything's gotta be about you, huh?"

For a second, I felt bad, I felt ashamed. I cowered underneath your sky blue gaze. For a second, I bought it. I was the selfish one, I was in the wrong. But anger can be stronger than regret, and sometimes, that anger is justified. 

When you bottle something in for too long, you eventually explode. I was a ticking time bomb from the first time you abandoned and ignored me for someone else. You'd temporarily disabled the bomb when you gave me brief sprinkles of attention, and then an entire month of it. But between the bonfire and Elodie, you sped up the timer to the inevitable conclusion. 

"Everything's gotta me about me?" I asked, hand rising to my chest. "Every time you get a new girlfriend you ignore me. And feelings aside, nothing changed that day at the bonfire. You went off with Elodie and left me in the dust even though you were the one who wanted us to go to the bonfire."

Your face flashed red, then you spat back. "I invited you because you always have to follow me everywhere. You and I both know that no one else would invite you. I'm doing you a favor. You should be thanking me. It's not like I enjoy having a clingy nerd following my everywhere I go."

Your words sliced through me, raw and scathing. For the first time since freshman year had started, you weren't acting. I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes. You were right, of course. Singlehandedly, you confirmed my worst fear: that I was a burden to you, a pity invite.  "Wow," I'd whispered, perhaps more to myself than to you.

"Look, Eden—" There was regret in your eyes. But you couldn't say that you didn't mean any of it, because you did. When folks get angry, they say exactly what they've been thinking for a while. And even if you didn't mean it, it was already said. There was no going back.

"Get out," I'd said this with resolve I didn't feel. 

"Eden."

"Get out, Wes."

You left, the flaps of the tent closing behind you. Maybe I'd expected you to apologize, to stay behind, to fight for our friendship.

But the thing is, you never did the chasing.