Times like this, Sara really hates Nate. She hates how he’s always smiling. How he never seems to see the problems ahead. How he’s always telling her to “keep your head up, sweet, everything’s going to be okay”. But most of all, she hates how he makes her hopeful. Because hope is not a friend. Hope is the flaky date you went out with on a Tuesday night, had one too many drinks with, and shared sloppy kisses underneath a streetlamp. Hope never calls back, only texts at 3:20AM with multiple typos and horrible beer breath and a sexy smirk under a mop of messy curls. Hope is-


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A road trip sounds like a good thing. It sounds appropriate after graduation and before university, before the start of the rest of their lives. She tells Nate as much – they’re sitting on his bed, what’s new? – and a crease appears between his eyebrows. It’s that look he gets when he doesn’t think something is a good idea.


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