A bittersweet feeling bubbled up in her throat when he just barely, almost unnoticeably nodded his head at her when she strolled closer to sit down.
He turned so he could face her when he did that subtle motion with his head, following her in sitting down - the bell had rung just now.
A bittersweet feeling because it meant he doesn't hate her nor despise her, meant that he's still willing to be acquaintances at least, if not friends again, but even if they were to become friends again, Jeanette knew it would never be the same, that there will always be a barrier between them because of her confession and stupid feelings she had never even asked for in the first place.
The soft motion of his head reminded her of the fact that things will never get back to normal, whatever that normal was, and she felt tears stung her eyes.
Tears, after she couldn't cry the whole weekend no matter how hard she tried or wanted to let it all out. Tears stung her when the teacher walked in and began the lesson.
For the whole time, she was playing with her fingers, balling her hands into fists and pinching her skin or digging her nails into it until they left darker marks.
Her fingertips burned all the way through as she was always touching her hands and fingers, but she didn't mind.
The pain was welcome, if not anything.