The sun spilled lazily across the school courtyard, painting the stone benches gold and warm. The air hummed with end-of-year restlessness — seniors laughing too loud, papers fluttering out of folders, the faint scent of cafeteria coffee.
For once, Alex was actually early. He sat on the bench under the big sycamore tree, eyes half-closed as he tilted his face toward the light. His sketchbook lay open on his lap, a few loose pencil marks of something he hadn't finished — a pair of wings, half-shaded, stretching across the page.
He didn't hear Liam until a shadow fell over him.
"Caught you daydreaming again," came that familiar teasing voice.
Alex blinked up, squinting against the sun. Liam stood there, tall and effortlessly gorgeous in that slightly rumpled uniform that somehow looked model-level on him. His silver-green eyes glinted playfully.
"I wasn't daydreaming," Alex said, flipping the page to hide his drawing.
