I rest my hand lightly on the small of her back in a steadying touch. A claim. A warning to her ex. All of the above.
Her whole body jerks.
I lean just enough she can feel my breath. “Go along with it,” I murmur so only she can hear. “For now.”
She gulps. Nods once.
Her ex glares. “This doesn’t excuse anything. I still want to see Junie.”
“When you actually show up,” she snaps, surprising me. “And when you’re actually sober enough for it to matter.”
He pales. “I’m not— That’s?—”
“Enough,” I say, stepping between them. “She’s done talking to you.”
“You don’t get to decide that,” he spits.
“I just did.”
He opens his mouth, but Briar beats him. “Matt, leave. Please.”
He looks at her, then at me, then mutters something under his breath and stalks off, shoulders tense and angry.
The principal claps her hands together. “Wonderful! I’ll update the paperwork immediately!”
I nod once. “Appreciate it.”
She disappears back into her office, humming with excitement and leaving me and Briar alone in the hallway. Then she slowly turns to me. Eyes wide. Mouth parted. Breathing hard.
“Saxon,” she whispers, strangled. “What did you just do?”
I shrug. “Helped.”
“Helped?” she squeaks. “You told my principal we’re engaged!”
“You told her first.”
“I panicked!”
“I covered you.”
She pushes her hands through her hair, pacing two frantic steps before spinning back to me. “This is insane. People are going to talk. The whole school?—”
“Let them talk.”
“There’ll be gossip.”
“There’s already gossip.”
She groans. “Saxon?—”
“Briar.”
She stops. I step closer.
Her back hits the bulletin board behind her, a poster with cartoon owls declaringWHO’s Ready to Learn?wrinkling behind her shoulder.
Her chest rises fast. Too fast. Her scent—vanilla lotion and maybe the faintest bit of caramel apple from the Fall Festival—wraps around us like a trap.
