Hillary
I pick up the photo. It’s just Bentley in a dark green suit, a weird crown sitting on his head. He is looking at this girl in a green satin dress with jet-black, wavy hair. I can’t see her face, but I’m assuming it’s Arianna, and they were prom king and queen.
I mean, I understand. Not only are they both hot, but they were also rich and brilliant. I wonder what could have made them stop talking. They look really good together, regardless of how hard it is to admit.
I grab a brown envelope from the drawer and start storing pictures I found tucked in between the books there. I keep myself entertained with a dusty album I found buried behind the shelf, turning page after page. Just pictures of young Ben. There’s a lot of Arianna in here and a little bit of Charlie. There are also
