I turn the heat down and sigh. “That’s not what I meant–”
“Then whatdidyou mean?” she snaps, voice cracking halfway through. “You’ve been cold to me for days! I thought maybe I said something, but now—” She stops herself, shaking her head. “You know what? Forget it. Until you tell me what’s wrong, I’m done trying.”
She walks out — again — leaving me there with boiling sauce and burning guilt.
By the time the others come back, the food is ready, and I convince myself I can just sit in silence before I mess up again.
“Wow, smells amazing!” Yana says, dropping into her seat.
“It’s just penne, don’t get too excited. I was–”
“Busy, we know,” Matt and Zara say at the same time.
“Ha-ha. Very funny.”
I start eating, but I barely taste the food.
It’s almost like I’m in this black hole where all happiness is gone.
Everything seems to be painted in a gray tone, and the gray is slowly getting to me.
We sit in silence, every one of us painfully aware of the current situation.
Halfway through dinner, Matt’s phone buzzes. “Hey, my parents need me home tonight. Nothing major.” He looks at me.
“Why are you askingme?” I tell him, annoyed. “You’re an adult.”
He smiles. “Just being polite. Anyway, don’t wait up.” He gets up, puts his mess in the sink, and starts packing his leftovers in a plastic container, probably for his family.
I love his parents so much. Matt is so lucky his family moved with him to Australia. He’s from Poland, and I respect that so much.
“Leave some for Tilly. She hasn’t eaten yet.”
“She hasn’t?” Zara asks, raising an eyebrow.
“No.”
Yana looks at me unimpressed, and Zara is looking in a way that tells me to spill.
Now.
“We fought,” I admit.
Yana sighs. “I’ll go talk to her.”
Zara gets up and starts cleaning.
“Need help?”
“No,” when she says that, I start for the doorway, but she stops me. “But,” she glares at me, “if you need to talk, I’m around.”
“Thanks,” I murmur, heading for my room.
I get on my bed, phone in hand, staring at the empty chat with Matt. If I can’t say it out loud, maybe I can text it.
It being I don’t know what, but I need to put my thoughts into words so I can make it make sense.
I start typing — and deleting — and typing again. A whole paragraph spills out. About how I’ve been off, how I can’t focus, how my brain won’t shut up about..
