I just nodded, because what else was I supposed to say?
But she must have seen something on my face, because she took a step closer, her own expression a mess of frustration and something else.
"No, you don't get it," she said, her voice quiet but intense. "It's not you. I swear, it's not about you at all."
I just waited.
"It's all this," she gestured vaguely around us, at the school. "The rumors, the drama, Tyler, Selma... for the past year, my life hasn't even felt like my own. It's just been a series of things I was supposed to do, guys I was supposed to like, a person I was supposed to be."
She took a shaky breath, her eyes locked on mine. "Being friends with you, this is the first time in forever that something feels... real. It's easy. I don't have to pretend. And I'm just not ready to turn this, us, into something else for people to pick apart and whisper about."
'Oh.'
That made a lot more sense. It wasn't a rejection. It was self-preservation.
