Dichotomy.

“You think she’ll actually come?” I ask absently, leaning forward from the backseat of Spencer’s car.

Haley laughs at me and I see Spencer roll his eyes at me in the mirror.

“She didn’t tell me for sure if she was,” he answers suspiciously. “Why?”

He’s surely not looking forward to childish bickering tonight.

“No reason,” I say innocently.

“Brendon’s in love,” Haley teases, turning to wink at me. I sit back, scowling at her.

“Brendon thinks that’s the stupidest thing he’s heard this week,” I retort, glaring out the window.

The truth is, I’ve become so jaded that I wouldn’t be able to tell love from passionate hatred anyway.

“Lust, Haley. Brendon just wants to do her,” Spencer corrects placidly, but Haley shakes her head in smug disagreement. “Maybe if you’d stop acting like a teenage prick around her, you’d actually stand a chance,” Spencer suggests in vague disinterest. “But probably not, though,” he adds, smirking.

“I don’t want a chance,” I argue. “I hate her.”

“You want her,” Haley smirks.

I don’t respond.

Just for the record, I can hate someone and want them at the same time.

I’m still annoyed when we finally get there, so I wander around, talking to literally anyone to pass the time.

Suddenly, I feel a small hand squeeze my arm and turn to see Haley grinning widely at me.

“She’s here,” she says under her breath, letting go of my arm and running off again.

I roll my eyes.

But I can’t help it.

I find myself glancing around casually even as people talk to me.

I see her talking to someone I don’t know after a while, then head over as soon as the guy walks away.

“Where’s Eric?” is the first thing that comes out of my mouth.

She jumps, startled at the sound of my voice.

She frowns, studying me.

“I don’t know,” she shrugs finally. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” I shrug back, and she raises an eyebrow. “Want something to drink?”

“Tom’s getting me a drink,” she says, and we fall awkwardly silent.

“Tom’s here?” I ask, confused.

“You said I could bring someone,” she points out, raising an eyebrow.

“Right.”

I’m about to excuse myself from this hopeless conversation when Pete abruptly joins us.

“Hey Brendon,” he says. “Tina, right?” he smiles, turning to her.

“Yeah. We’ve met,” she faintly returns the smile and shakes his hand.

“I tried to sign you once,” he agrees, nodding.

“Right. My drummer was an asshole about it,” she continues. “Sorry about that.” He laughs.
“No problem. Besides, being an asshole is still a character trait. Right, Bren?” he nudges me, and she laughs.

“Funny,” I reply, but the truth is, he’s right, even if he’s only joking.

By that time, she spots Tom across the room and excuses herself, leaving me standing with Pete.

I glance in her direction before looking back at Pete, who’s now wearing that incredibly stupid smile on his face.

“Don’t even…” I glare at him darkly.

As if I need another one of my friends to think I’m in love with our new guitarist.

He laughs.