Will crawls away and grips the divider, slumping over it right in front of me. “Oh my god,” he huffs. At first, I’m concerned that he’s injured, but then he peeks up at me. “Rhys told me you hate me.” His words are hushed, but I hear them all the same. He takes a break, dramatically resting his forehead on the black padded wall, thumping his fist like he’s working through the pain before gritting out, “Still nice to meet you.”
