Jioni zoned out. A chilling thought hit her: this could be the last time Brandon ever saw her. And this would be the last time she saw him: a wrinkled face scared by stress, messy red hair pushed and pulled by worry, and the stiffest posture signaling discomfort. That was her best friend, and how did she torture him? By entering his room and destroying his night, then leaving as if nothing happened. It was a repulsive, disgusting feeling. But what else was there to say or do?
Another word would fall flat, another look could set off a spiral, and though a goodbye hug would be nice, Jioni knew by sight that he was too stiff to be hugged. So she turned around, with her leg out the window with the unsatisfactory memory of tonight. All these thoughts had to be thrown out to reach her goal, or she’d never fall through with it.
“Jioni.” Brandon held out his hand.
a slow small smile came across her relieved face: she had another second with him.
