Monday morning.
The usual.
Alarm buzzing, groggy shower, Val hogging the mirror because apparently eyeliner requires a NASA-level concentration. Then breakfast—or what passed as breakfast since Val picked the strawberries out of my bowl and popped them into her mouth, claiming she was "saving me from the sugar." Sure. That's what it was.
By the time we were out the door, she was glued to my side, humming some tune she probably picked up from TikTok. My backpack weighed me down; hers was slung over one shoulder like she had gravity privileges I didn't. Nothing new there.
The drive to school was uneventful—music playing, her stealing glances at me when she thought I wouldn't notice. I noticed. I always noticed.
It wasn't until we actually got to campus, weaving through the usual flood of students, that something shifted.
Because Trent was waiting.
I spotted him first—leaning against a pillar near the entrance like he was trying to look casual but failing spectacularly.
