The cafeteria felt louder than usual. The clinking of trays against metal counters, the chatter of students overlapping like badly tuned radios, the occasional burst of laughter from one table or another—it was all too much. I sat across from Ryans, staring at the half-empty plate of pasta between us, but all I could really hear were my own words circling back, stabbing me again and again:
You already made me look at you differently, Ryan. By not trusting me enough to be honest.
You already made me look at you differently, Ryan. By not trusting me enough to be honest.
You already made me look at you differently, Ryan. By not trusting me enough to be honest.
The words hung there like a smoke cloud, heavy and suffocating. He hadn’t said anything immediately, and the silence had turned sh
