After parking my car in the school lot the next morning, I stared at my phone and pushed out a breath, blowing away the thick curls in my face. My gaze lingered on the messages from Chris last night, my stomach tightening. When a little green bubble popped up next to his profile picture, I sucked in a breath.
Whoever Chris was … he knew me, and he went to Redwood f*****g Academy.
Tapping on his contact, I waited one, two, three minutes for him to type something to me, but nothing came through. He was probably on his phone, smirking down at his messages and at how worked up he had made me.
To stop my fingers from shaking, I held them still. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t go to school today. What if Chris has told everyone already? What if I am now the laughingstock of the entire school?
