Austin
I didn’t expect it to feel normal again so fast. After that walk on the beach—after the things she said—I thought maybe things would be awkward. That she’d flinch every time I looked at her too long, or stop answering my texts. But she didn’t.
She still showed up the next day with her binder clutched to her chest and that same quiet scowl that wasn’t really a scowl. And I let her in like I always did. The words “Hey” and “You’re late” passed between us, but they didn’t mean anything. It was the way her eyes flicked to the desk, already cleared of clutter. The way she raised an eyebrow like she was surprised I even owned a desk. The way she sat down anyway.
Maybe I was imagining it. But I don’t think so.
She sat at the desk and opened her binder as if nothing had changed. But som
