I'm a pessimist. All things come to an end, there's no such thing as true love, the glass is half empty. And falling in on itself. Maybe I'm bitter. I know this, and I'm fine with it. But the thing about being a pessimist is that I'm often right. Which is nice. I get to say "I told you so" fairly often. My friends hate it, especially Shane. But Shane hates a lot of things, so I don't take it personally.

Right now I have another chance to say "I told you so," but I don't really feel like saying it. It would seem like I'm gloating, and I'm not. Even if I told her Shane was bad news, doesn't mean I wanted this. No one wants to see their best friend get cheated on by their other best friend. No one likes having their loyalty tested. No one likes having to choose sides. And who am I supposed to choose? My best friend since grade school, who's been with me through everything, even if he's an asshole sometimes? Or my best friend since I was 15, who's shown me that things aren't all bad, even if she's too optimistic sometimes?

"Go on and say it," she says quietly, sniffling and wiping her eyes with her sleeve. "I know you want to."

"Say what?" I ask, even though I know what she means. She laughs bitterly and I hate the sound. It's wrong. She's not supposed to sound like this.

"'I told you so.' Come on, it's like your catchphrase. I know you wanna say it. I won't spoil your fun. Go on."

"I don't want to," I say as I take a seat next to her. Of course he'd pick the first day of Camp Rock to break the news to her. Shane is a lot of things, but tactful isn't one of them. Of course she'd come here, the dock where they spent so many moments of so many happy summers. It's all tainted, though, dark and pointed and uninviting like those memories weren't. They will be now, though. Because Shane breaks things. He breaks things without realizing the consequences, and sometimes I wonder if he'd still break things if he knew the damage it caused. Sometimes I think he still would. Tonight is one of those times.

"I guess you know, huh? That he cheated? But you saw this coming. You told me not to go out with him. You said it wouldn't last. You said that he wasn't the guy for me, even if he was your best friend. And you were right. You're always right," she says, swinging her feet and sniffling a bit more.

"I didn't think this would happen," I say quietly. She shakes her head.

"Doesn't change it, though. It happened. You were right. I should've listened to you."

"He cares about you. You have to know that," I tell her, even though I know it doesn't matter. But he's still my best friend, and even if I think he's an asshole there's a loyalty that comes with being friends with someone since you were 5 years old that's hard to break.

"He cared so much he cheated on me? That's bull and you know it."

"At least he had to decency to tell you, alright! At least he told you rather than you catching him in the act. He knows he hurt you, and I get that you hate him right now, but don't make him into more of a villain than he is, okay?" Why the hell am I sticking up for him? Oh, right, 'cause it's Shane and it's me, and I'm nothing if not a loyal friend. She just looks at me and shakes her head. Her eyes are watery and her makeup is smeared and I can't help but hate him for this.

"How long have you known?" she asks after a pause. She doesn't even look sad, or angry. Just curious. I sigh.

"He told me after he told you," I reply, running a hand through my hair. And sent me to pick up the pieces, I think to myself, because that's who I am. I'm the loyal best friend who cleans up Shane's messes.

"But you suspected something. And you probably think I should've suspected something, too, right?"

I can't respond because any response I'd have would be a lie. Yes, I thought he was fooling around on the side. Yes, I thought she should've noticed it. But of course I didn't say anything. I never say anything. Even if I had, no one would've believed me without proof. She's my best friend, but who would she believe, me, or him? I didn't want to find out. The answer would hurt more than I care to admit.

"You know, it doesn't even hurt that much. Not as much as I thought it would," she says, looking down at the water, her tone attempting to be light and cheery. Bull. I know her better than that.

"You never were a good liar."

"I fooled you, didn't I?" She laughs humorlessly at this and shakes her head. "Remember when we were 16, before I started dating Shane, and you told me you were in love with me?" I cringed at the memory, but she went on like she hadn't noticed. "And I told you I loved Shane, and that we could only be friends? I lied."

"You expect me to believe that you were really in love with me, but you shot me down for the hell of it?"

"Not for the hell of it," she disagrees. "I was confused. I liked you, and I liked Shane. You were becoming one of my closest friends, and I was afraid of what I was feeling, so I convinced myself that I only saw you as a friend. I chose Shane, and now here we are," she says, irony seeping into her voice. "Funny isn't it?"

I don't say anything. I don't trust myself to say anything. She broke my heart three years ago, and now I'm hearing that she did it on accident. That she was confused. That she felt the same way. Now what am I supposed to do? It's not like I ever stopped loving her—I think even she knows that. I'm sure she saw through my veiled attempts at breaking them up; I'm sure she realized that my cautions against dating Shane because he wasn't good for her or would end up hurting her were really just me trying to keep her from falling for my best friend.

Because Shane always won. Shane always got the glory, the spotlight, everything. I was his sidekick. It had been that way since we were five. We'd grown up with these roles. I'm used to it, even if I hate it. It didn't surprise me that Mitchie chose him—I'd expected it, because he was the hero in this story and I wasn't, and the hero always gets the girl. In a moment of mindlessness I'd told her how I felt, but spontaneity's never worked for me. And she's her and I'm me and it was never supposed to work out. I know that. I may have tried to keep them apart, but I always knew I'd never be successful.

This? This throws everything off.

"If I told you I loved you what would you do?" she says quietly, like it's a secret just for me. I suck in a breath and close my eyes.

"He's my best friend," I say slowly.

"That's not an answer."

"It'll have to do."

"He cheated on me. I think that shows you how he'd feel about this."

"It's not that simple. He's still my best friend, and I couldn't do that to him." Do I sound like I'm on autopilot? I feel like I am. I can't help but wonder if I'm throwing away my chance for something like happiness, even if I'm only 19 and I know that, logically, this isn't the end of the world. "Shane's an asshole, and he's insensitive, but he doesn't deserve to see his ex with his best friend. Especially if she'd harbored feelings for said best friend throughout their relationship. There are some bonds that can't be broken, and this is one of them."

She doesn't say anything; she just nods after a little while and wipes at her eyes again. That aching is back, the one that came after she turned me down all those years ago. Is this heartbreak? It hurts, more than it did before. And she's crying silently, and I want to comfort her but I can't. So instead I stand up and start walking back to my cabin. To some this might come off as insensitive, but I hope she knows that it isn't. It's just me giving her space.

"Nate?" she calls softly. I stop but don't turn around.

"Yeah, Mitchie?"

"D'you think—d'you think we could've been happy?"

I take in a sharp breath and for a second I can see the life we could have, but then I blink and it's gone. "Yeah, Mitch. I think so."

"Me, too," she says, and it's so quiet I'm not sure if I was supposed to hear it or not.

On the walk back to the cabin the whole conversation plays out in my head again. I can't shake the feeling that this is my chance, but I'm blowing it. Maybe Shane would understand. Maybe it could work. Maybe I could talk to him.

Maybe, just maybe, we could be happy.