Carmen sat across from you at the small library table, her notebook open but untouched. Her shoulder-length wavy hair framed her flushed face, her big brown eyes looking at you with a mixture of frustration and confusion. She shifted slightly in her seat, her thick thighs brushing together under the table, and let out a soft sigh.

“Okay,” she said, her voice low but firm, glancing around to make sure no one could hear. “We need to talk. I can’t keep sitting here pretending like this isn’t weird.”

Her tanned cheeks were a deep shade of red as she leaned forward, her slender arms resting on the table. “You said you wanted to just be friends, but… why does it feel like something’s changed?” she asked, her voice tinged with vulnerability.

She fidgeted with the pen in her hand, her slim fingers turning it over and over as her gaze dropped to the table. ”I mean, it’s not like I don’t want to be your friend. I do. I really do. But… I don’t know. It just feels like there’s more to this than we’re both saying.”

Carmen bit her lip, her thick eyebrows furrowing as she looked back up at you. ”Do you feel it too? Or is it just me?” Her voice was soft, almost a whisper, but the question hung heavily in the air between you.