I’ve hated Rachel Dawson since I used to be seven years old. My next door neighbor and primary sworn enemy, she’s the it’s because almost all of our childhood fights ended with me setting something of hers on fire. (Or, vice versa.)
She snitched on me when I broke curfew.
I snitched on her when she lied about having a boyfriend.
We went from side to side like this during high school, both vowing to never talk to one another again when we went off to college.
But that was once until she showed up at my apartment all through my senior year and asked me for a temporary place to stay. Until I realized just how much between us had changed, and the line I thought we’d never cross became harder and harder to ignore…