I gave him a short nod, not meeting his eyes.
“Everything okay?” Gabriel asked, tilting his head to catch my face.
“Everything’s fine,” I mumbled.
“Something is bothering you,” he said.
I didn’t respond to that.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, his voice careful.
This time, I turned to him, jaw tight. “I said I’m fine.”
He let out a slow breath. “You’re not fine. You just won’t admit it. You don’t even look okay.”
I looked at him. “You said you’d give me thirty minutes without talking. Just your company.”
“I did,” he said quickly. “I meant that.”
“Then why are you pushing it now?” My voice was tight, sharper than I meant it to be.
He looked caught off guard for a second. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just... I want to help.”
“But I don’t need your help. I never asked for it.” My brows drew together as frustration built in my chest. Why did he have to do this? Why couldn’t he just sit with me, like he said he would? Why did he have to care?
We were fine before. Friends. Simple. No questions. No feelings.
Whatever this was, it only made everything worse.
“Sloane, you’re so closed off,” he said quietly, his voice gentle, more curious than accusing. “That’s not healthy.”
He looked at me like I might break.
And all it did was make me want to run.
What I wanted—what I needed—was silence. The kind that didn’t press or prod or expect anything from me.
And in its own way, silence could be a scream too.
But I didn’t have the energy to argue. Maybe he was right. Perhaps I had built walls so high that even I couldn’t see over them anymore.
“I asked because I care,” he said quietly.
That’s when something inside me snapped—a thread pulled too tight for too long. I needed space, not someone picking at wounds I was barely keeping closed.
I crossed my arms, needing the barrier more than air.
“You need to stop acting like you have a right to ask me anything,” I said.
“I’m just trying to help,” he repeated, frowning, his voice quiet.
“Well, I’m not the type to talk about my feelings,” I snapped. “You should know that by now.”
“Sloane—”
I stood and walked out before he could finish.
Outside, the cold air of the corridor met my skin. Cameron was there, leaning against the wall just outside the balcony doors. A bottle of water in one hand, a paper-wrapped sandwich in the other. He didn’t try to come in. He just waited there for me.
