Nate Jacobs was over, in the eyes of Maddy — he was a cycle that she was glad to have broken out of: get together, be treated like goddess, fuck, have a fight, break up, then all over again.

… Again, and again, and… again.

She knew she’d be fine without a guy — and that, if she wanted to, she’d have somebody at her feet, if she just clicked her fingers — it was like a spell, or a superpower, that only she had; or maybe she was just hot, who knew.

Yet, the newest person by her side didn’t feel like another, disposable prick, who’d leave the moment they boned — not like she’d care all that much, if they were — but being able to walk down the school hallway with somebody that had never called her a whore, or told her that she was crazy, or choked her so hard that she bruised was a nice feeling.

Bare minimum? Of course, but with Maddy’s simultaneously ultra-high, yet completely demolished standards and experiences, it was good to be grateful for the little things, right? … erm.. sure.