Elena
The second I stepped out of the restaurant, I felt like I'd forgotten how to breathe.
The morning air was cool and soft against my skin, but my chest felt tight, too tight. I walked quickly to my car, the sound of my heels echoing through the space between what had just happened.
I got into the car and shut the door, leaning my head down on the steering wheel. My reflection in the side mirror when I checked looked foreign, flushed cheeks, and lips trembling slightly.
“It was just lunch, Elena,” I whispered to myself.
“It meant nothing more.”
But that was a lie I didn't want to admit.
The meal had been good, but with him sitting across from me and his eyes staring holes, eating felt impossible. We talked about the event, about work, about everything except the one thing that re
