Evening study had just ended.
Andrew fussed over Charlotte’s bag, packing everything up for her and sneaking glances at her face. She didn’t look happy at all. She just kept staring at her phone, barely even noticing him. Maybe she really hadn’t done well on her last test.
Andrew still remembered how he got stuck doing extra worksheets the last time he tattled. This time, he was trying to be supportive. Surely Anthony would appreciate it, right?
He handed Charlotte her bag, and once she walked off, he whipped out his phone and fired off a text to Anthony.
Anthony, Charlotte totally bombed her exam. She’s in a really bad mood, so you should probably cheer her up.
Andrew felt pretty pleased with himself after that. He was being thoughtful, right? No way Anthony wouldn’t be grateful. He was definitely getting better at winning Anthony’s favor.
. . .
The night was soft, the moon bright overhead.
Under the thick canopy of trees, a sleek black sports car waited by the curb. Anthony stood in front of it, a cigarette pinched between his fingers, the glowing tip sharp in the night. His other hand scrolled through his phone, long fingers moving with practiced ease.
When he saw Andrew’s message, Anthony’s eyes narrowed just a little. He exhaled a lazy cloud of smoke, his whole vibe calm and a little untouchable.
After a few seconds, Anthony put his phone away and glanced toward the school gate.
He spotted Charlotte right away. She had her bag slung in one hand, her head down, walking slowly in his direction.
Charlotte was never late. If study hall ended at ten, she was out of the classroom by ten on the dot, never a minute later.
Anthony arched an eyebrow, crushed out his cigarette, tossed it in the trash, and walked over to her.
The first thing he did was take her bag from her. Then he took her hand, lifted it to his lips, and kissed it softly.
“Why are your hands so cold?” he asked, his voice low.
Charlotte met his eyes in silence, not saying a word.


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