Archie sounded like he already knew I was lying. The smart thing would’ve been to distract him. Joke. Shrug. Redirect. Instead, what came out was, “Everyone is staring.”
He pivoted just enough to look at me directly, one hand braced on the wall like he was grounding himself before he said something he couldn’t take back whatever he planned to say.
“Let them.”
My breath snagged.
He wasn’t posturing. His voice didn’t have that arrogant I-don’t-care edge he used when someone pissed him off. This was different. Protective. Possessive. Maybe too much of both.
I swallowed hard and looked away. “It’s not that simple.”
“It is,” he said, running his hand down my arm to my elbow in a casual caress he’d done a thousand times, but today it left a trail of fire in its wake. “They don’t get to judge you for something that isn’t their fucking business.”
“It shouldn’t be yours either.”
That stopped him dead.
I regretted it instantly.
Archie’s jaw flexed, and for a second it looked like he might argue—might remind me he had shown up after my entire reality shattered, that he’d been the one to help me cobble those pieces back together. But instead, he inhaled slowly.
“Frankie,” he said, voice lower now, “I’m not going to apologize for stepping in when someone corners you.”
“It’s not about that.”
He waited, gaze pinning me with the same intensity that made my knees feel unreliable.
“Then what is it about?” he asked quietly.
Us.
Me.
Everything.
But I couldn’t unwrap any of that in the middle of the hallway with freshmen bumping past us and juniors whispering like they were auditioning for a gossip podcast.
So I just shook my head. “Not right now.”
Something raw flickered across his face, but he nodded.
We finished the last few feet to the classroom in silence, and the hush that fell over the hallway hit harder than thefirst. A familiar blue poster board outside the classroom readELECTIONS MATTER, which was laughably optimistic given my current track record with choices.
Archie went through the doorway first like he always did—like he was clearing the path, crowding out the possibility of more whispers.
Inside, the classroom was only half full, but the air still changed when we walked in. Heads snapped up. Some students straightened. One girl elbowed her friend so hard I heard the impact.
My cheeks burned.
“Jesus,” I whispered under my breath.
Archie shot a glance at the room that made three people look away instantly.
We moved toward our usual seats at the back. My hands shook as I set my backpack down. I was halfway to pulling out my notebook when someone slid into the seat directly on my right.
Archie’s shoulders tensed like pulled wire.
I didn’t have to look to know it was Mathieu. He wasn’t eveninthis class, much less in that seat.
