I wake up to the soft hum of fluorescent lights and the stinging smell of antiseptic.
My head hurts. My limbs feel like they're made of wet cement. I blink hard, and the white ceiling above me slowly comes into focus. There's a faded poster of a smiling cartoon heart taped crookedly to the wall.
I'm in the nurse's office.
"Ugh," I groan, dragging a hand over my face. "No."
The nurse notices I'm awake and walks over with a fake smile like she's been waiting all day to say something condescending.
"Well, well," she says, checking something on a clipboard. "Welcome back, sweetheart. You fainted in the hallway this morning. Gave everyone quite a scare."
I grit my teeth.
Fantastic.
I push myself up slowly on the thin, crinkly cot. My hoodie sticks to the back of my neck with sweat. My hair is a tangled mess. I probably look like I crawled out of a dumpster.
"Great," I mutter. "Just what I needed. A school-wide freak show moment."
The nurse clicks her pen and doesn't respond. She's probably seen a hundred kids pass out, cry, or puke in this room. But this—this—felt different.
Because I know why I fainted.
It wasn't dehydration. Or anxiety. Or hunger.
It was the bracelet.
I look down at my wrist.
Still there. Still snug. The beads resting quietly like nothing happened. Like it didn't flood me with blushing heat and melt my brain the second Jasper looked at me.
"What the hell is your problem?" I hiss at it under my breath, clutching my wrist.
It doesn't answer, obviously.
But somehow, I still feel its weight heavier than ever. Like it knows. Like it's smug.
I yank my sleeve down over it, hiding it.
I'm not used to feeling anything that strong. Not attraction. Not flustered warmth. Not dizzy joy. It was too much, too fast. I'm not that girl—the one who faints in front of her crush. That's embarrassing. That's weak. That's not me.
I sit there, fuming, breathing hard, trying to push the red from my cheeks. I want to disappear. Or scream. Or both.
There's a soft knock on the door.
The nurse walks over and opens it halfway, talking to someone in hushed tones.
I catch a glimpse of messy dark hair and green eyes through the cracked door.
Jasper.
My heart lurches.
Of course he came.
Of course he saw everything.
Of course I want to sink through the floor and never come back.
The nurse peeks her head in. "He said he saw you faint and wanted to make sure you're okay."
"I'm fine," I snap, a little too fast. "Just tired. You can tell him I don't need saving."
She raises a brow, then shuts the door behind her as she steps back into the hallway.
I flop back onto the cot, dragging a pillow over my face.
The bracelet presses against my skin again, soft this time. Like it's apologizing.
Or teasing me.
I don't know which is worse.