The first time Declan Baldwin made an enemy of her, she'd broken the boy's nose.

She could vividly recall the sickening crack echoing in her ears as her fist connected, the sensation of warm blood on her throbbing knuckles, the anger as she pummeled the boy again and again and again. Even as her father and the coach tried to separate the two seven-year-olds, they hadn't stopped. The boy retaliated by biting her, and yanking at her hair, while she responded with kicks and punches. When the fight finally ended, Mar swore never to speak to the boy again, a promise she fully intended to keep.

He'd made an enemy of her for life.

She waited in her father's office, tears heavy in her eyes, fists clenched in her little basketball shorts. When he arrived, she couldn't bring herself to look up, straining to hold in her sniffles as she waited for his disappointment. For his anger. Surprisingly, her father leaned down, wiping fresh tears from her face with his large palm, eyes understanding.

"Why are you crying, schatje? Are you the one with the broken nose?" Her head shook slowly, his calm tone easing the tension in her chest. "So why is my baby crying, hm? Can you tell me?" Again, her head shook; she didn't want to talk or cry like the baby her brothers believed her to be. Mar Alexander was no baby, despite what her papa said.

"No?"

"No," she confirmed with a sniffle. "And I'm not going to say sorry either. He deserved it."

Her father managed a small smile at her stubborn demeanor but said nothing. Instead, he lifted her up and settled in her seat, placing the young girl on his lap. It was a swift motion for the burly man, making her squeak in surprise. "So you won't apologize, then?"

"Un-uh." She sniffled, stubbornly shaking her head. "Never."

"Never, ever?"

"Never, ever, ever." She stressed the final word, nodding firmly with crossed arms and a pout on her lips. "And you can't make me, I won't do it."

"Oh, then that's too bad. What should I tell Declan, then? He wanted me to apologize for him, to tell you he was sorry he hurt your feelings, and he still wanted to be your friend." Her ears perked up at his words. She looked at her father slowly as he sighed, a dramatic pause filling the air. "But that doesn't matter now. My schat doesn't care about his apology. She doesn't care about having friends at all, does she? And who would? Who needs them, anyway? Not you, right?"

Her nose scrunched at his words and his peculiar attitude. Who was saying all of that? She wanted friends, yearned for them so much that her papa created the community center. Now he was saying she didn't need any friends? "Nu-uh, I didn't say that!"

"But that's the thing, baby, you did. Friends fight. I fight with Uncle Logan all the time. All your uncles, actually, they get on my fucking nerves sometimes. God, they drive me insane. But at the end of the day, when all is said and done, you apologize when you did something wrong. I do it, Uncle Logan does it. You fought with your friend, but he apologized, right? He still wants to be friends. So, if you don't apologize, then what does that mean?"

She sat in his arms in silence, not wanting to say anything. His words were starting to make sense. Declan apologized, and she had hurt him. She made him bleed so badly that it dripped onto his shirt, and he still wanted to be her friend. With a little more convincing, she apologized. They cried and played basketball together days later, as if nothing had happened at all.

They became the best of friends—her, Declan, and her twin brother, Miguel.

Why did that memory come to her now as she stood in the empty hall of the crowded house, music thundering in her ears like her heart? As she watched her best friend laugh with people she'd thought were her friends—people she had grown up with at her father's community center—about her.

It wasn't as though she wanted to eavesdrop on them or peer into their conversation. All she wanted was to find Declan in the party he'd left her at, tell him she was going home, and he didn't have to bother taking her back. When she made it upstairs and heard his familiar laughter coming from the end of the hall, she'd never felt so relieved in her life. But as she approached, her footsteps were slowed by the words she heard.

"You're crazy, man. You'd fuck her? Seriously? She's a total bro, that's a violation. What the hell are you on?"

Mar paused at the door, hand on the knob. She recognized the voice as Nate's, one of her friends, but she'd never heard him speaking that way before.

Another boy chuckled disbelievingly. "Come on, you wouldn't? Either you're lying or you're fucking blind, I swear. Right, Dec?"

Their words made her feel sick, an unpleasant sensation settling in her stomach. Since when did they talk like this?

"No way I'd fuck Mar."

Mar blinked, taken aback by the words and the harsh, indifferent tone of the boy who uttered them. Declan. But why was he... why was he talking about her like that? Why was he laughing like that?

"She's like a brother to me, why the fuck are we even talking about this again? She's practically a kid, I don't even want to think about it. I swear you guys always say the same idiotic shit, give it a break."

Her heart raced as she took a step closer, the door widening a bit. Declan laughed it off with a casual shrug, but she couldn't believe her ears, let alone her eyes. They were talking about her, and it wasn't the first time. Did they talk like this about her when she wasn't around?

As if she meant nothing to them?

As though they were never friends?

These were the kids she grew up with, the first ones to join her Dad's community center. They were her first friends, even if they couldn't hang out often. She considered them friends. She considered Declan a friend. Her throat tightened, and tears threatened behind her dark eyes. Even then, she couldn't look away from the boy she once called her best friend.

"But that body, though! She's not built like a kid."

"Exactly, bro, even in those sweats, you can tell she's built. I bet she's a virgin, too."

"Oh I don't doubt it. You see that shit she wears?" Someone laughed, "Unless Dec hit and didn't tell us. I bet she was a great fuck, huh Dec?"

Declan grimaced, disgust evident on his features. "Seriously, chill the fuck out. If you get off to Mar, you've got a serious fucking problem." The room filled with raucous laughter, her face flushed, grip tightening on the knob until her palm hurt. All of their words came in quick session, one demeaning word after the other, each blending together as the heat rushed to her ears.

Mar sucked in a harsh breath, releasing the doorknob, trying her hardest not to cry. She backed away, the door creaking as she did so, a stray tear falling quicker than she could swipe it away. God, she couldn't breathe. Never in her life had she heard anything like this, never felt anything like this. She was suffocating there, lungs collapsing into themselves as their laughter scorched her ears.

Still, they kept going. They way they were talking, the sound of them laughing, the things they were saying...That Declan was saying...It was all too much.

A pained sob slipped past her lips, the pressure and heat behind her eyes releasing like a broken dam. Hot teardrops rolled down her cheeks one after the other, blurring her vision, even as she tried to swipe them away. She felt so betrayed, so embarrassed. So humiliated. Was this really how they felt? How Declan felt? When he hung out with her, was this all he thought about? Was he ever her friend?

Were they?

At the sound of her cries, the door sprung open, and the blurry, shocked face of a boy was all she saw.

"Holy shit, it's Mar," She heard someone say.

"What?" Declan whipped his head over, face twisting in guilt the moment he saw her face.

The room filled with silence as she stood there, stupefied boys staring at the girl, frozen by the shock of what she heard, her soft cries echoing in the hall.

Scorching their minds with her heartbroken face, wet with tears.