8. twisting
SHE TWISTS HER HAIR AROUND HER FINGERS
-whenever she's faced with a particularly difficult problem


"Look, Granger, what I wanted to say is – "

"That you're sorry. I get it." She turns to look at me, adjusting the books in her arms. "You don't need to explain any more than that. You were drunk. Happens to everyone." She says this like it's the most reasonable thing in the world, then goes back to shelving the books, her fingertips gently caressing each spine as she slides it back into its proper place.

I want to scream at her, take her by the arms and shake her, tell her that I wasn't drunk that night, that I wasn't just trying to pull something over her head, I was telling the truth.

Somehow, she can see my internal struggle. Putting the books down for a moment, she lays a small hand on my arm and I have to tell myself to breathe because maybe I'm not in heaven yet. I close my eyes tightly then open them, and she is still looking at me, her face scrunched up into a cute cross between bewilderment and reassurance.

"Are you okay?"

When I don't respond, she removes her hand and turns back to the bookshelf, twisting a small stand of hair around her finger. She doesn't know what to say anymore. I know I should tell her something, at least acknowledge that she has tried to help me, but my brain doesn't seem to be working properly.

"I – I'm okay," I manage finally, breaking the silence. "I – I think I'll leave now."

She doesn't respond, just goes back to shelving books, and not for the first time since I've met her, my heart takes a plunge.


A/N: Love ya'll. Review please?

xoxo,
-Sianatra