Chapter 53

Lila’s POV

I swear the world conspired to turn studying into a nonstop flirt-fest. We spent the entirety of the next day crammed in the library, textbooks splayed out like a paper battlefield, but every couple pages I turned, Rowan would flash me that grin—half “I’m a genius” and half “you’re so mine”—and I’d nearly drop my pen. Whatever vestige of embarrassment I’d clung to about wanting him melted faster than ice cream in July.

By breakfast, the kitchen table had become our personal Shangri-La. One minute I was spooning cereal into my mouth, the next we were tangled up like windblown spaghetti. I’m pretty sure I knocked over a carton of orange juice in the process, but hey—I cleaned it afterward, so moral of the story: don’t underestimate the power of chemistry. Lunch? Our couch saw more action than a drive-in movie. And dinner? We were sprawled on the floor, discovering new contortions that made both of us simultaneously question and applaud our own flexibility