Jocelyn sat in her Honors class, staring at the words she had written, though she wasn't really seeing them. The lecture had been going on for what felt like hours, and Mrs. Carter's voice droned on in the background about The Great Gatsby and the American Dream. Normally, Jocelyn loved this class—it was one of the few places where she felt she could truly focus—but today, her mind was far from Nick Carraway and West Egg.
Her thoughts kept drifting back to Arvid. It had been two weeks since their argument, and it was still weighing on her, heavier than ever. She hated the way things were between them now, the awkward silences, the unspoken tension every time they sat across from each other at lunch.
She scribbled down a few notes, but her focus was completely elsewhere. Why did I have to snap at him like that? she wondered, replaying the argument over and over in her head. Arvid had just been trying to talk to her about something, and she'd got mad at him, too wrapped up in her own world to really pay attention. Then, when he called her out on keeping an important secret from him, she had lashed out, accusing him of not understanding how hard she felt and how much more. The way she said it—like he didn't matter—made her cringe now.
She sighed, putting her pencil down and rubbing her temples. She'd been wrong. She knew it. But apologizing felt so hard, especially after two weeks of silence. The argument had driven a wedge between them, and now the distance felt like too much to close with a simple "I'm sorry."
Her eyes flicked to the clock—ten minutes left until lunch. The thought of sitting across from Arvid again, pretending everything was fine, made her stomach twist. They used to laugh and joke together, but now every meal felt like a strained, uncomfortable exercise in avoiding eye contact.
Jocelyn's pencil hovered above her notebook again. She felt like she was drowning in this mess, and every passing day made it harder to fix. The longer she stayed silent, the more she convinced herself that Arvid probably didn't want to hear from her anyway. Maybe he'd moved on, maybe he didn't care. But deep down, she knew that wasn't true.
As the bell rang, signaling the end of class, Jocelyn gathered her things slowly, dragging her feet on her way to the cafeteria. The usual nervous energy she felt around cheer practice was nowhere to be found today; instead, she just felt heavy, weighed down by the guilt that had been biting at her since the argument.
When she reached the cafeteria, she spotted Arvid already sitting at their usual table, poking at his food. He hadn't even looked up when she entered the room. She swallowed the lump in her throat, grabbed her lunch tray, and headed over to join him and their friends .
The moment she sat down, the awkwardness settled in like a thick cloud. Their other friends were talking, but Jocelyn barely paid attention, her mind focused on the silence between her and Arvid. He was sitting across from her, but they might as well have been miles apart.
She picked at her food, stealing glances at him, wondering if he was thinking the same thing. The argument had been stupid. She had said things she didn't mean, and she could tell from the way he was acting that he was still hurt. She should apologize, but the words felt stuck in her throat, like they were too big to say out loud.
Instead, she sat there, pretending to be interested in the conversation happening around her, though she wasn't really participating. She wondered if Arvid would say something first, if maybe he was waiting for her to bring it up. But every time their eyes almost met, he quickly looked away, and the wall between them only seemed to grow thicker.
Halfway through lunch, Jocelyn saw a group of popular girls walking toward their table. Lauren, a girl from the high school cheer team, smiled brightly as she approached.
"Hey, Jocelyn," Lauren said, her voice chirpy. "We've got some room at our table if you want to come sit with us."
Jocelyn hesitated for a moment, glancing at Arvid. He was still focused on his food, but she could see the way his shoulders tensed. Her stomach churned with guilt, but the tension at their table was suffocating. Sitting with Lauren and her friends, even if it wasn't where she usually hung out, seemed like a welcome escape from the awkwardness that had been lingering between her and Arvid for two weeks.
"Uh, sure," Jocelyn said, forcing a smile as she grabbed her tray. "I'll come sit with you guys."
She stood up, trying to ignore the way Arvid's face tightened just slightly—like he was trying not to care that she was leaving. He didn't say anything, didn't even look at her as she walked away, but she could feel the weight of his disappointment, even if he wasn't showing it.
As she sat down with Lauren and the other girls, the conversation was immediately different. They were talking about summer, about their old cheer routine, about the gossip. Jocelyn tried to keep up, smiling and laughing when she was supposed to, but her mind kept drifting back to Arvid. She glanced over at him a few times, seeing him sitting there, still poking at his food, even quieter than before.
She should've stayed. She knew that. Sitting with Lauren and the others wasn't where she belonged. It wasn't where she wanted to be. But facing Arvid, facing the mess she had made between them, felt too hard. So instead, she tried to laugh along with the popular girls, even though none of it felt right.
The rest of lunch passed in a blur, and when the bell rang, Jocelyn grabbed her bag, feeling a strange hollowness in her chest. As the cafeteria emptied out, she glanced back at Arvid's table one last time. He was already gone.
The guilt settled deeper in her stomach as she made her way to her next class. She kept telling herself she'd apologize tomorrow, that she'd fix things soon. But the longer she waited, the harder it seemed. And now, after leaving him at lunch like that, it felt like she had made things even worse.
What if I waited too long? The thought crept in, unwelcome but persistent. Jocelyn shook her head, trying to push it away. She could fix this. She had to. But the sinking feeling in her chest told her that maybe, just maybe, she had already missed her chance.
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