I know.

10 years.

10 years of hating Griffin Taylor. Luckily for me, he lives hundreds of miles away and I very rarely have to handle the knowledge he's in town for his 48 hour visits. Some supposed best friend he turned out to be. Mum and dad would have screamed at him for hours for missing the things he did.

Though, Griffin Taylor never did care about other people's feelings. I always thought I wasn't apart of that rule. That I was different to him. His best friend. His rock.

No call. No text, no message through his mum or his brother.

Nothing. Mine and Piper's world collapsed from under us. Total strangers on the outskirts of town showed their love and support. But Griffin? He showed up 18 months later with barely a word before taking another life altering phone call. Ass.

Now, 6 years after I last had the pleasure of being in his almighty presence, Piper made the overwhelming, stupid decision to invite him to her wedding. It's fine. He'll be here for his usual 48 hours and I'll find a million things to keep me out of his way so I'll barely see him. It's fine. Not a problem. I can handle it. Piper wants him here, Piper wants her family here and I guess, with no one else, the Taylor's are family. For Piper I'll keep my thoughts to myself, I'll smile and I'll be the good Christian I am.

But as far as I care, Griffin Taylor can rot. In. Hell.