My stomach twisted; gratitude and annoyance sat uneasily side by side.
The words "Can't we be friends" hung heavy in the air, an unexpected olive branch from a boy who, until a few days ago, I'd categorized as... well, let's be polite, non-friend material.
My fist clenched, not in physical anger, but in a desperate need to reclaim some control. Before my brain could catch up, my hand shot out, knocking his away with a sharp smack.
The sound echoed in the sudden silence, a punctuation mark on the tension-filled room.
Slap!
His eyes, those same blue eyes that usually seemed lost in daydreams, met mine without flinching.
There was no spark of anger, no hint of hurt. His expression remained an unreadable mask, as impassive as a Greek statue.
