Trace
I barely slept last night thinking about what a bastard I am for breaking things off with Wren the way I did. I don’t even want to think about how Ainsley is taking the news. She probably hates me, and I can’t blame her.
Rolling over in my bed, I look at my cellphone screen and see that Clint has been texting me.
Clint: Bro, I’m seriously craving some French toast. Get your ass up from bed and take me to breakfast.
Before I can answer, the phone vibrates again.
Clint: You know how I am when I get hangry. I’m sure you don’t want me wasting away since I’m the only friend you got, and you’d be left desolate and alone without me.
I roll my eyes at my friend’s dramatic text. Clint has a massive sweet tooth and is always hungry. I can’t count how many times we’d have to stop somew
