Brandon's POV
I told myself I wouldn't do it. All morning, I repeated that I would let it go. Chloe had fittings after school, and I had rehearsals. We were already behind schedule with the new original piece, and Mr. Pat expected something solid by tomorrow. I should have been focused on lyrics, chord progressions, and structure—not hospital sign-in sheets and not Garrett.
As I drove toward the school, that intention was firm in my chest: focus on music, on her, and trust her. But the closer I got to the campus gates, the heavier my chest felt, like I was swallowing something sharp and pretending it didn't hurt.
At the red light just before the school turnoff, I gripped the steering wheel tighter. I could do this tomorrow, or next week, or never. The light turned green, and I drove straight past the school entrance. My brain lagged behind my hands for a split second before I realized what I had done. Then I exhaled.
