I frowned, trying to brush it off, but the corner of my mouth wouldn’t go back down. “No, I didn’t.”
Alex raised an eyebrow. “Oh, you did. Joshua fucking Maxine Lockhart—smiling. In broad daylight. During class. Christ, I should take a picture for the archives.”
I shoved his elbow back. “Shut up.”
He smirked. “You gonna tell me who made you grin like that, or am I supposed to guess?”
My jaw clenched. I leaned back in my chair, pretending to take notes as my thumb hovered over the screen again. The picture she sent. The little message. The A in red.
Alex was still watching me, that stupid, amused look on his face. “Bro, you’re actually smiling,” he whispered again. “What the fuck.”
I ignored him, but the truth was he wasn’t wrong. Because even as I forced my face back into neutral, I could still feel it. That small, traitorous smile tugging at my mouth.
The kind you don’t plan. The kind you don’t fake.
Aurora did that.
One photo. One text.
Alex leaned back in his chair, muttering under his breath, “Unbelievable.”
Yeah. It was.
Chapter Fifty
Aurora
Second day back, the campus was finally calm after the chaos of the first.
I’d finished class early and couldn’t stop thinking about Honey. It had been two days since I last saw her little orange furball face, and the ache to hold her was stupidly strong.
Maybe that was an excuse. Maybe I just wanted an excuse.
Joshua was by the field, pulling his hoodie over his head, a whistle blowing in the distance. I hovered by the bleachers, clutching my notebook, waiting for him to notice.
He did.
He always did.
“Can I—” I hesitated for a second before continuing, “go see Honey?”
He paused mid-step, brows drawn for a second before he nodded.
Then, without a word, he reached into his pocket, pulled out his keycard, and pressed it into my hand.
“Take this.”
My eyes widened. “But—” I started, but before I could finish, he spoke again, cutting me off.
“Wait,” he dug into his pocket again, phone in hand, thumb moving fast. He looked back at me, voice steady and matter-of-fact. “It’ll be here in a few minutes. Your Uber.”
Before I could protest, to tell him I could take the bus, that he didn’t need to, he jogged onto the field.
I stood there, the keycard cold in my palm, staring after him as he joined his team.
He didn’t look back.
—
