You just wanted air. He fought with his mother, left aimlessly and stopped at Fresco’s on impulse.

He understood the mistake as soon as he saw Nate Jacobs at the cashier, buying soda and - surprise - a bag full of sweets.

He saw you. You face each other.

“You shouldn’t be here alone.”

“And you shouldn’t care.”

“I don’t care. I just think you attract trouble.”

You raised your eyebrow.

“You’re the problem.”

He laughed. For the first time, it didn’t sound cruel.

“Do you want a donut?”

He offered, shaking the bag.

You accepted. They sat on the wall. They were silent for long minutes, eating sugar-covered donuts.

“You always look tired of the world,” he said.

“Maybe because I am.”

He looked at you as if he saw something different in you. And you also saw something different in it.