Roan stared at his best friend.
Nicholas, coolly hidden behind his sunglasses, appeared relaxed at first glance and his casual posture might have fooled anyone, but Roan knew better. The rhythmic tapping of Nicholas’ fingers on the side of the can on his knee betrayed the turmoil churning beneath the surface.
This particular habit, the finger-tapping, was one Nicholas had unconsciously copied from his father. Roan doubted his best friend was even aware that he was doing this.
Then, with a sudden, unexpected force, Nicholas crushed the empty coffee can in his hand.
Roan watched him do it, wondering if Nicholas would do the same thing to him.
It wasn’t that Roan wished to be apathetic. He simply didn’t have the capacity to connect deeply with the feelings of those around him. Nicholas h
