Chapter 220

I’ve read the same text about eleven times now, which is objectively pathetic for something that says exactly nothing romantic and everything practical.

《Give me another hour, I’ll have something more solid.》

That’s it. That’s the entire content of the message currently living rent free in my head as Zeke drives me to school. Not exactly poetry. And yet I keep pulling my phone out under my blazer sleeve, keep rereading the two words that came after it, be careful, and keep feeling something warm and entirely unwelcome unfold in my chest every single time.

“You’re doing the thing again,” Danielle says, sliding into the seat beside me the second I walk into homeroom.

“What thing.”

“The phone thing. The little smile you do when you think nobody’s looking.” She leans in, eyes bright with the specific hunger of someone who has been starved of actual gossip for three whole weeks. “Who is he.”

“There is no he.”

“Lucia.”

“Danielle.”

“