Silence

The silence between them settles like dust after a storm, thick and unavoidable. He watches Ari pull the sheet tighter around herself, her knuckles white against the fabric, and he realizes she's not just embarrassed—she's scared. He's seen her scared before, once, at a party when some guy wouldn't leave her alone. But this is different. This fear has his name on it.

He clears his throat, the sound rough and too loud in the quiet room. "Look," he starts, then stops, because he doesn't actually know how to finish that sentence. He rubs the back of his neck, feeling the dried sweat and the faint sting of scratches he'd forgotten about until now. "We can't just sit here staring at each other like we're waiting for the floor to open up. That's not going to help anyone."

Ari lets out a shaky breath, her shoulders dropping just a fraction. "I don't even know where to start," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "I mean, we just—" She gestures vaguely at the space between them, at the tangled sheets, at the clothes scattered on the floor. "How do you even begin to explain something you don't understand yourself?"

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