"She didn't say she likes me," Casper protests lamely, though even he knows how that sounds after everything he's just said. He hadn't been certain until he'd said it aloud but, yes. At the time, at least, she'd liked him. And he...doesn't know how he feels or how he wants to feel. And it might not matter anymore anyway. He glares down at the concrete and stone beneath them.

"And that was before all the shit I said to her, anyway." He goes to push back his hair, feels the brim of the hat instead, and drops his hand irritably. "Like...'Even if I'd gone to the dance, I would've wanted to go alone'." He'd really had a lot to drink that night. And he really was a fucking idiot.