A long, tense silence followed the splat.
The entire cafeteria froze.
Forks hovered mid-air. Conversations died mid-sentence. A hush as profound as a vacuum settled over the room as everyone turned to witness the aftermath.
Pink, gooey sauce and semi-melted cheese slid from Alex's silver hair like a war crime in progress.
Ava stood trembling, wide-eyed, her brown hair equally dripping with the evidence of culinary violence. Her lower lip quivered.
Alex didn't move.
His hands hung at his sides, fingers slightly curled. The air around him trembled faintly—as if space itself was too nervous to breathe. His expression was unreadable, but the faint pressure that leaked from him was unmistakable.
Ava flinched. She had spent the entire day with Alex—laughing, joking, and witnessing his carefree, happy-go-lucky self. The person before her now? This wasn't the Alex she had come to know.
They both turned toward the origin of the flying food.
