My morning starts with a run, and an apology.

I'm picking my way down a perilous trail dotted with rocks and tree roots when I hear Finn's voice behind me. I chose this shitty trail just to avoid him (he hates running hills), so when I hear him call out, "Hey, wait up!" my brain shorts out and I forget all about watching the ground in front of my feet. Next thing I know, I'm sprawled across the forest floor and Finn is crouching down next to me like some Good Samaritan sent from Hell.

"You okay?" he asks.

I spit dirt out of my mouth and swear furiously.

"I'll take that as a no."

"Of course I'm not fucking okay. Words can't even describe how much I don't want to see you right now." I can't tell who I'm more furious with— him, for tracking me down on my run, or myself, for reacting so badly. "God. I wish you'd just leave me alone!"

"Look, I know you hate my guts for what I did during Capture the Flag. But we need to talk, and your leg is bleeding."

As if on cue, my leg throbs with pain. I look down and see that the impact with the dirt path has shredded a large portion of my knee into a bloody mess. "Shit. Shit!" I press my fingers against the wound, trying to staunch the bleeding, but I only succeed in smearing blood all over my mesh running shorts. "This is all your fault, Fish."

"How is this my fault?"

I point an accusing finger at him. (The dried blood makes it look very theatrical.) "You're a distraction. That's why."

Finn frowns. Then he starts to take off his shirt.

"What the hell are you doing?" I demand. I'm not an especially prudish person, but I really don't want to see Finn shirtless. Not now. "Put that back on!"

"I don't have any band-aids, and we need something to stop the bleeding," he explains, handing me the shirt. It's slightly damp, probably because of the sweat I can now see glistening on his bare chest. I wrinkle my nose at him in disgust. He shrugs. "It might not be name-brand, but it'll work."

"I'm going to get it all bloody."

"It's from my middle school basketball team. I doubt I'll miss it much."

I don't want to accept his help or his stupid sweaty t-shirt, but logic tells me that running back to the cabin with blood dripping down my leg will be more of an inconvenience that letting Finn get his way. So I wrap the shirt around my stinging knee, shooting him death glares whenever he starts looking too hopeful.

"This doesn't make us even," I tell him. "I'm still mad at you, and I'm planning on staying that way for a while."

"I know. Can I help you up?"

Grudgingly, I let him guide me to my feet.

"Want to walk?"

"Not really, but I don't have much of a choice. You'd probably just follow me anyway."

He shrugs. "I won't if you ask me too."

"Whatever. Sending you away would be more trouble than it's worth."

This makes him crack a grin.

"And wipe that stupid look off your face. I'm still mad at you, you know."

We start the mile-long hike back into camp. The trail is just as treacherous while walking, but focusing on the ground ahead of me gives me an excuse to not look at Finn and his bare chest. Thankfully, it's a chilly morning, so he keeps his arms wrapped around his torso.

I'm hoping that he'll let us walk back in silence, but the moment we start down the path, he opens his mouth with no plan on shutting it again. "I'm sorry about your leg. Really, I am. It wasn't my plan to startle you, or anything. It was my mistake."

"Yes, it was."

"I'm sorry about what happened during Capture the Flag, too. That was also my mistake."

"Great. I don't care."

"I'm also sorry about what I said about you knowing things before they happened. That was out of line. I stretched the truth."

"Damn straight you did."

"But I also think you owe me an apology, too."

I stop walking and turn to face him, even though it means greeting his very bare chest. "Excuse me?" I demand. "What am I supposed to be apologizing for?"

His face flushes pink. He looks uncomfortable now, but he doesn't back down. (I used to think his stubbornness was cute. Now it's just infuriating.) "You lied to me. You pretended that you kissed my roommate."

"He told you?"

"He told me everything."

"That asshole!" I exclaim. While I didn't exactly swear Ronan to secrecy during our chat in the rain, I also didn't expect him to go blabbing to his roommate about it all the next day. "Lying bastard... I wish I'd punched him in the nose."

"Well, that's the first thing you get to learn about Ronan. He rarely tells the truth."

I stuff my hands into the pockets of my camp sweatshirt and stomp off down the path, too angry to stand still. Finn bounces after me like an overenthusiastic dog.

"He shouldn't have told you," I say. "That was a private conversation."

"Okay. Doesn't change the fact that you shouldn't have lied to me."

I fling my foot at a loose twig. It goes flying into the underbrush. "So? You shouldn't have told Clancey that you were the one responsible for the hornets!"

"Sure, I understand that taking the credit for your prank was stupid. But it was a spur-of-the-moment decision, not some grand scheme to steal your glory. I didn't want to hurt you by telling Clancey I was the one that hid the flag in the nest. I only wanted to keep you safe."

"Keep me safe? From what? I don't need your protection!"

"Clancey wanted to beat you up. I could see it in his eyes."

I let out a loud, derisive scoff. "He wouldn't land a single punch."

"I know better than to underestimate you, but I also know that if Clancey wanted to hurt you with his fists, he could. He's two hundred pounds of pure muscle and built like a college football player. You wouldn't stand a chance against him."

"And you would?"

"Maybe." He shrugs again. "Maybe not. But better me than you."

"How chivalrous."

"I can tell Clancey the truth if you want me to."

"Don't bother. He'd never believe you. The damage is done, Fish. No take-backs."

Finn races to catch up with me as I pick up the pace. It hurts to run with my scratched-up knee, but I'd do anything to end this conversation. "I'm trying to make things right between us, Becca," he says breathlessly. "Can't you see that? I want to be friends again."

"Well, I don't. You might think all you did was take the credit for some stupid prank, but in reality, it was so much more than that. You stole my respect. Do you know how hard it is for me to get any respect in this world?"

Finn tries to say something, but I hold up my hand, and he stops. This is no time for interruptions. This is time for a speech. "You've got it easy. You're a white guy from Indiana. People look at you and see a kid that's going to get into college on scholarship and graduate with Honors and a degree in business. In this world, you don't have to earn your respect. They gave it to you the moment you were born. But for me? I have to work for it. And that's something you will never understand."

Finn stays quiet for a few moments, just letting me stew.

When he finally speaks, his tone is much more subdued. Somber, even. "I didn't realize the prank meant that much to you. I only thought you wanted to get even with Clancey for calling you a— well, you know what I mean. I was being inconsiderate. I'm sorry."

It's hard to be angry at someone who isn't angry too, but Finn's solemness somehow only makes me more aggravated. All I wanted was to fight with him, not see him like this— all sorry and sympathetic and shirtless. Why can't he yell back, so we can have a real argument? I'm going to lose my mind if he keeps acting so goddamn rational.

"I wanted to get even with Clancey, but really, I wanted him to stop treating me like shit." My voice grows louder with every word. "I never expected him to respect me just because of some stupid prank. All I wanted was for him to think. For him to pause a moment before deciding to call me a bitch."

Finn flinches at these last two words. "Okay, okay, I get it. You wanted to teach Clancey a lesson because he disrespected you, and I shouldn't have gotten in the way. But I still don't understand why you had to pretend to kiss Ronan. How did you even know that he would go along with it?"

"Ronan would go along with anything that pisses you off," I say. "You can continue your run. I'd appreciate some time alone right now."

"Are you sure? Your leg—"

"I'll deal with it when I get back to camp. It's fine, no thanks to you."

Finn's face stiffens. For a moment, he looks truly upset, and I almost regret lashing out at him until he says, "I don't get it. How many times to I have to apologize until you understand that I really am sorry?"

Any sympathy I had for him dissipates immediately. "I know that you're sorry. You've made it very clear. But the thing is— I don't care. I'm done accepting apologies. Also, please don't follow me again. I prefer to run alone."

"I didn't follow you—"

"Don't lie to me, Finn. Just go."

Finn gives me one last, miserable look. I can tell that he doesn't want to leave, but he does, just like I asked.