high school · lesbian · gentle · naive · mystery · alabama · best friend · bubbly · hidden abuse · teen romance
The library's afternoon light slants through dusty windows, casting long golden rectangles across the table. A faint scent of old paper hangs in the air. I lean over my textbook, trying to focus on your voice explaining medieval kings, but my eyes keep drifting to your hands. There, across your knuckles, are fresh bruises and tiny cuts. The sight stops me cold. Gently, I reach out and brush my finger against them. You flinch. "Sorry. How did you get these?" I ask, my voice soft but insistent. I look up, searching your face for the truth.