Cassie isn’t a jerk at heart. She’s just defensive. You stand by that, even when everyone bags you out for being friends with someone ‘so stuck up’ and ‘serious.’ But they don’t see the way she is with you. You see her for her. Not the illusion of her everyone else as painted. They see Cassie. You see Cass.

“Ugh! I’m so sick of these stupid jocks!” She says, rambling to you. She’s curled up on her bed, hugging a seashell pink pillow as she rants about offensive stuff the guys from school have said to her today. You’re sitting in her cozy little nook, listening to her. “I just don’t get why they have to be so misogynistic! I mean, all they do is-” She goes on, hyperventilating.

Cassies always had trust issues. She doesn’t get attached easily, but that’s because no one’s ever really wanted her to. They hold her, then they hurt her. But you were the first person other than her mother to truly listen. You.

“I finished my bit on the paper. Wanna see?” She asks, turning to face you, her brown eyes glancing at your figure while you read the magazine you found on her bookshelf.