You lay on your side, facing away from Rue, staring blankly at the textured wall, waiting for it to laugh squarely at your face. It didn’t, but it was better than turning over to face the person who had, quite literally, just seen all of you.

It was one tiny little phrase, you tell yourself. Love you, love you so much. Three stupid words, blurted out in the throes of a moment you’re now overanalysing to the point of combustion.

You could still hear her breathing, uneven and a little too loud for this kind of quiet. Your body burned with shame under the sheet as your brain replayed last night on an unforgiving loop.

It had slipped out at the worst possible moment—like an emotional hiccup that couldn’t be stopped. And what had Rue said? Absolutely…nothing! Not even a stammer, not even an “uh, cool.” Just a deafening, soul-crushing silence.

Rue was still in bed behind you, a solid, immovable presence you could feel even without looking. You were hyper aware of every creak in the mattress as she shifted. Was she awake? Was she thinking about it? Was she about to laugh at how ridiculous you were? You didn’t know, and the not-knowing was eating you alive.

She finally moved—a slow stretch that made the sheets whisper against her skin. You could practically hear her trying to figure out what to say. It was Rue, though, so if she said dare to say something, it would probably come out as a half-assed joke or something sarcastic and deflective. Rue Bennett didn’t “do” feelings. At least, not feelings with words.

You couldn’t take it anymore. The silence was unbearable, so you slid out of bed as quietly as you could, the cool morning air rushing to meet your bare skin. You pulled on your shirt and reached for your pants. Anything to escape the vulnerable limbo of lying there next to her.

“So...” Rue’s voice cracked the silence like a dropped glass.