Right behind the arch, tucked in the shadow of the marble wall, we disappeared. Hidden from view. Cut off from the crowd and its hungry eyes.
Then he pressed me back against cool stone andkissed me.
Not a question. Not a whisper. A kiss that devoured hesitation, ripped the breath from my lungs, and made me forgeteverything.
His hands skimmed up my waist, fingers brushing justunder the edge of my blouse. I gasped, and he swallowed it whole, mouth slanting over mine with that same reckless, unrelenting hunger he’d shown me at the bonfire—but now it wasfocused.
Not chaotic.
Intentional.
“Still think the heat’s not worth it?” he breathed, his lips tracing down my jaw, dragging heat in their wake.
My heart pounded so hard I could feel it in my throat. “Leo…”
“Tell me this isn’t worth it,” he murmured, dipping lower, his voice rough against my throat, “and I’ll walk away. Tell me I don’t light you up,Gitanilla, and I’ll stop.”
But I didn’t stop him.
I couldn’t.
Because he was right.
This was messy. Dangerous. Stupid.
And still… my fingers curled in his shirt, tugging him closer like gravity wasn’t enough.
Itwasworth it.
And that terrified me more than any of their stupid gossip ever could.
The locker room smelled like sweat, hairspray, and expensive perfume.
Girls peeled off cleats and fake smiles like armor, glancing over their shoulders at me as if they were checking to see how far the virus had spread. The virus, of course, beingme.
I was in the middle of tying my shoes when three of them cornered me.
Not with fists. Worse—withsmiles.
“You really think it’s cute, don’t you?” one of them asked, voice all sugar and venom.
“Leo’s just bored,” another chimed in. “This is what he does. Finds a project. Plays with it. And when he’s done?”
“He doesn’t clean up after himself,” the last one finished.
I stood, slow and steady, heart pounding so loud I could barely hear the rest.
“When he’s done,” the first girl said again, stepping closer, her manicured finger pointed like a threat, “we’ll be just getting started.”
I didn’t flinch.
I didn’t cry.
But the crack that formed behind my ribs? It was real.
Because they weren’t just mean girls—they werelegacy mean girls. With power, influence, and names that came with invitations and threats.
This wasn’t what I came here for. This wasn’t the plan.
