New York City
CAMILLA RYDER
As soon as Lorenzo finished eating, something felt off. He was unusually quiet. Not that I wanted conversation from him, or I craved for it— God knows he talks like he’s holding a blade to your throat — but his silence was worse. It was the kind that creeps under your skin and lingers.
I glanced up but, when our eyes met— God it was embarrassing. It was like being caught stealing glances at a loaded gun. I quickly looked away, pretending I hadn’t been watching him, only to catch him staring again.
"Why are you staring?" I blurted before he could say anything, not that he wanted to say anything, but I just wanted to win whatever weird silent battle we were suddenly having. I didn’t want it to seem like I was the one watching him first.
He didn’t answer. Inst
