Allison's POV
I shouldn’t have grabbed her.
That thought hits first. Sharp. Immediate.
Too late for that, I think, squeezing my eyes shut for half a second.
The cafeteria noise comes crashing back in like nothing ever happened—voices, laughter, trays slamming against tables—but it doesn’t sound normal anymore. It sounds wrong. Too loud. Too layered.
Too much.
I can hear everything.
Forks scraping against plates three tables over. Someone tapping their foot rapidly against the floor. The uneven rhythm of heartbeats scattered across the room. Fast ones. Nervous ones. Calm ones.
Too many.
My hands curl slightly against the edge of the table, and I swear I can still feel Evelyn’s wrist beneath my fingers. The pulse under my grip. The sudden tension in her body.
Not fear.
Recognition
