Disclaimer: Camp Rock is not my own. If it was, my Tess would be way more evil than Charlotte's baby cousin. (; Right, Char?

97. "A long time ago we used to be friends, but I haven't thought about you lately at all."

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Shane watched the brunette drop her cup through the Starbucks window, spilling coffee – lots of cream, just like she'd drink it when he knew her, he assumed – all down her black skirt. He didn't have to read her lips to know she'd said something he wouldn't label a curse word. She wasn't like that, and probably nothing's changed. Though he knows nothing's changed, but everything has.

She pushed her hair out of her face (it still grew wild and she didn't bother to pin it back or anything like she did when they were younger), and looked up. She probably felt his gaze, which might explain why her eyes suddenly met his and went wide.

"Shit," he read on her lips. He chuckled humorlessly. Maybe she had changed. But almost as quickly as she'd said it, she slapped her hand to her lips.

Picking up his cup and slinging his guitar case over his shoulder, he rushed out onto the busy LA streets.

"Caitlyn," he breathed once he'd reached the brunette. His voice was low and husky with the memory of what they were and what they could have been. Her eyes were cold and hard as she gave him a bitter once-over.

"And who are you? I knew someone who looked a bit like you, but he disappeared from my life nearly ten years ago," she spat. Her voice sounded almost the same but he didn't recognize the bitter edge to it.

"I guess I deserve that. But, Caitlyn, I'm sorry."

"Save it, Shane. I don't want your apologies. I don't want any of it," she argued, raising a hand to silence him.

"But, I am. I didn't mean to do what I did. I was seventeen!"

"And that's a valid argument?" she challenged. He didn't answer, but his silent 'no' hung in the air between them. "That's what I mean."

"Caitlyn, I thought about you every single day of these past ten years. You don't mean to tell me you haven't thought of me at all since then?" Shane demanded, his eyes piercing into hers. He was sure her eyes weren't that black ten years ago.

"The bitter truth is, Shane, that we used to be friends a long time ago, but I haven't thought of you lately at all."

And with one last long look, she turned on her heels and walked away, leaving him to stand in the middle of the busy street and be buffeted by people for a good fifteen minutes during rush hour.

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A/N: While I try to come up with a good idea for a multi-chap or figure out where I stand on the others, I'm writing a bunch of one-shots. (: