It has been an hour.
An entire hour of agonizing, suffocating, soul-crushing silence.
Jasper has refused to say a single word to me.
Not a teasing remark. Not an eye roll. Not even a grunt.
And I hate it.
There's nothing I haven't done to break the silence—dramatic sighs, stretching obnoxiously, making random comments about how fantastic the weather is. Still, nothing. He just sits there, motionless, carving a useless stick like it has personally offended him.
I stare at his profile as he focuses on his task, nibbling my lower lip. There's some tightness in his jaw, his brows are knitted together, and he is definitely angry.
And it hurts.
I'm not sure why. But it does.
Maybe it's because Jasper and I are not supposed to be doing this. We are not supposed to be sitt
