"Well?!" Charlotte groaned, her pale skin flushing crimson with fury.
I sheepishly looked up at her, quite unmoved, and uttered an anxious sigh. "I'm sorry."
"I-I'm sorry?" She echoed, her fingers scratching her chin in sheer disbelief before she sat down heavily in front of me. "That's it? That's your grand excuse? You waltz in here, say two measly words, and expect me to nod along?"
I could hear yet another wave of hushed whispers ripple through the canteen. Charlotte leaned forward, lifting a clenched fist right in my face, her knuckles dangerously close to making contact.
"I could punch you right now!" she whimpered, the words barely making sense as she swallowed her frustration.
"I said I'm sorry," I repeated, holding my ground. "I know you waited for me last night—Anthony told me—but I already made up my mind."