" So tell me, Ash, is your insistence to drive the drunk guy and his whore girlfriend home because you’re the perpetual good girl who helps everyone? ’Cause I know you don’t like me much, so I’m curious as to why you want to make sure I get home safe.”
“Beau, you’re my friend. Of course I like you. We’ve been friends since we were five. Sure we don’t hang out anymore or go terrorizing the neighborhood together, but I still care about you.”
“Since when?”
“Since when what?”
“Since when do you care about me?”
“That is a stupid question, Beau. You know I’ve always cared about you,” I replied. Even though I knew he wouldn’t let such a vague answer fly. The truth was that I never really talked to him much anymore. Nicole was normally wrapped around one of his body parts. And when he spoke to me, it was always to make some wisecrack.
“You hardly acknowledge my existence,” he replied.
“That’s not true.”
He chuckled. “We sat by each other in history all year, and you hardly ever glanced my way. At lunch you never look at me, and I sit at the same table you do. We’re at the field parties every weekend, and if you ever turn your superior gaze in my direction, it’s normally with a disgusted expression. So I’m a little shocked you still consider me a friend. "

― Abbi Glines , The Vincent Boys (The Vincent Boys, #1)