Her brows knitted together, confusion flickering across her expression as she leaned closer, trying to see what I was holding. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen it before.”
“You didn’t put it inside?” I turned the note in my hand.
Her captivating eyes narrowed, suspicion creeping into her gaze. “No.”
Hales first name was printed in all caps on the front, written in black ink. I unfolded the paper and scanned the handwritten note.
The sun follows you down empty streets,
even shadows lean in when we meet.
You don’t see me,
but you feel me.
—Mine
What the hell is this?The words stared back at me. She’d been here all of two days and already had someone sending her love notes? “You’re sure you don’t know where this came from?” I asked, frowning at the slip of paper as if my eyes alone could set it on fire. I definitely wanted to burn it.
She shook her head, dark waves falling forward over one shoulder. “No. What does it say?”
“Nothing,” I replied, folding the note back up along the same creases. “It must’ve been there from last year.”
Her eyes glimpsed to the paper in my hand, to my face. She wasn’t buying my lame-ass excuse. “And that person also happened to be named Mallory? I saw my name when you opened it.”
I held her gaze, daring her to call me a liar.
“Give me the note, Maddox.” She held out her hand, palm up, fingers waiting.
“Who have you talked to besides Mason and me?” I asked instead, deflecting.
Her expression sharpened, suspicion blooming fully now. “Why does it matter?”
“Because nothing happens in this school without my knowledge.” The words came out flat.
“Then what do I need to tell you for?” She raised one eyebrow, challenging me.
“Don’t be a brat,” I growled, leaning in slightly, closing the space between us until I saw the flecks of gold in her eyes.
“Is there a problem, Maddox?” Mr. Gifford’s voice cut in from the front of the room.
I glanced up to find the entire class staring at us. The room had gone quiet, everyone waiting to see what would happen next. “Where should I begin?” I muttered under my breath.
“How about with the assignment?” Mr. Gifford said dryly, his arms crossing over his chest as he leaned back against his desk, his expression unamused.
Hales reached for the paper, her hand darting out fast, getting a little too close in the process. She grabbed hold of one edge and yanked, the corner tearing, but she got the bulkof the note. Her eyes scanned the scribbled message, and her expression cracked a fraction.
I leaned in, whispering near her ear, “Looks like you’ve got a secret admirer.”
She looked up at me, her jaw setting. “Is this your idea of a joke?”
“You think I put it inside your book?”
“No one else has had the opportunity.” Her tone was accusing, her gaze unwavering.
“But I have. Is that it?” I nodded at the open textbook between us, its pages filled with highlighted passages and scribbled notes in her handwriting. “Because I’ve been using your copy. Is that what you think?”
“I don’t know,” she said, her voice quieter now but no less intense. Her fingers curled around the torn note. “Why don’t you tell me?”
