Chapter 7

Burberry Prep isn’t a religious school, but it used to be, and while the crosses have been removed, a bit of Catholic flair remains in the rows of pews, the raised dais, the stained glass windows, and the nooks that used to house saints and now house kissing teenagers.

With so many people crammed into the church-turned-auditorium, the air feels charged with excitement and anticipation for the upcoming school year. I wish I could share in it, but all of my enthusiasm has been snatched away—and fast. I didn’t expect to get my spirit crushed for a few weeks yet.

“I’m really sorry about how the morning’s gone,” Miranda whispers, her jaw clenched tight, fingers teasing the hem of her skirt. She glances over at me and forces a smile. “Honestly, it’s my fault for drawing their attention to you. I’ll get them off your back though, I swear it.”

“Your fault?” I ask, raising both brows. “This is nowhere near your fault. That Tristan guy started it when he decided to be a jerk