"You are such a tool," my Beta said as he stood.

Aspen's welcome had dried up like a plum in the sun, and we both still sat on her couch, watching the tea go cold.

I couldn't argue with him. He was right. I was a tool. A big one. And not sharp. Like a broken shovel or something.

Jesus.

I ran my hands through my hair and stifled the urge to scream in frustration.

"Why is it that I can't get this right?" I wondered aloud.

Evan stood, brushing crumbs off ...