As the days passed, the likelihood of Nate apologising about Friday night dropped. He has my phone number; a texted apology would’ve helped. Not that I’d accept it. I close my eyes and blank the replay of my humiliation, allowing my disgust to rise instead. Okay, maybe he was drunk, but his behaviour was inexcusable. I helped him, and he mocked me. The worst thing about the situation is I care. When Will accosted me at the beginning of term, he was at least complimentary. Even though Will pissed me off, I don’t hope he’ll be castrated by a mob of pissed off girls as I do with Nate. I’m confused. The Nate I’ve spent time around is a world away from the foul-mouthed misogynist from a few nights ago. Don’t they say alcohol brings out the ugly side of your personality? Smooth, Nate but you’ve revealed your true colours. He knew exactly how to manipulate me into getting what he needed. But he doesn’t get what he really wants on top of that.
