"Ugh, Leo is such a drama king," Arianah muttered, clutching her cheeks in her hands as if trying to steady herself. She exhaled slowly, brushing her long bangs away from her eyes before casting a weary glance around.
It was barely dawn, and already I was met with news that threatened to shatter my whole day. I had no appetite to settle at our usual table in the canteen.
"How many times has this happened now?" Gabriel laughed, his teasing tone sharp and merciless as always.
Josh nudged me with his elbow, grinning like this was the best joke he'd heard all week. Honestly, they seemed far more amused than worried about what was going on. Not that I cared for their sympathy. It meant nothing.
"Your problem is that you fall for every girl who crosses your path. You don't let a single one slip away."
"Shut up! I'm nothing like you!" I snapped, brushing off his elbow in frustration.
He burst into laughter and slid over to sit right in front of me, shameless as ever. What nonsense about not letting anyone go? If that were true, I would've already dated half of Gabriel's crew by now.
The last time I had an issue like this was way back in seventh grade. That was bad enough; I never wanted to relive it. But now? Ninth grade, and I was right back where I started—caught in another messy chapter with these girls.
"Those quiet ones? They usually turn out to be the oddest—maybe even a little insane," Arianah thought, rolling her eyes with a mix of exhaustion and disbelief.
"I'm not weird or psycho, Arianah," Angel finally spoke, her voice calm but laced with quiet defiance. She'd been sitting beside me all this time, silent and observant—until now.
Gabriel chuckled and threw an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a light-hearted side hug as if to shield her from Arianah's careless jab. "Wait, are you even the quiet type?" he teased, his laughter echoing like it always did—too loud, too carefree.
Everyone was still caught in their little bubble of fun while I sat there practically sweating bullets. My nerves were on edge, and I ran a hand through my hair, hoping someone—anyone—would throw me a lifeline. I bit down on my lower lip, glancing toward my cousins, searching their faces for even the smallest answer.
"What happened?" Carlos finally asked, casually wiping his mouth after chugging down an entire bottle of soda like nothing out of the ordinary was going on.
"It's Shanie," Arianah replied before I could even open my mouth. "She fainted earlier. During our P.E. class."
"Shanie?" Carlos's brows drew together in concern, the name hitting him like a jolt. The tension in the air thickened.
And just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, I spotted Chona and Chloe walking straight toward us. Great. They must've come from a quick meeting with the dance troupe before the break. Chona rarely hung out with us during these times—usually off somewhere with her friends or boyfriend—so I already knew why she was heading our way. Something was up.
"Here, Chloe," Arianah called out, waving her over. She scooted to the side, making space for Chloe to sit beside her.
And then came Joshua's voice—sharp and unfiltered as always. "You mean Arianah's classmate? The current flavor of the month."
Of course. Trust Joshua to ruin the moment with that mouth of his. Nothing good ever came out of it.
"Why did she faint?" Carlos asked, though his tone was unreadable, eyes fixed on the two girls approaching us. I couldn't even tell if he cared or if he was just trying to look calm while the storm built around him.
Before he could say more, Chona arrived, her presence sharp and commanding. She didn't waste time.
"Leo, what are my classmates telling me?" Her voice was crisp, controlled—but her eyes? Blazing.
"Chloe's classmate fainted because of you? What did you do?"
"Nothing!" I blurted, the word flying out before I could even think.
"Nothing? Seriously?" she pressed, her brows drawing together in a way that made my stomach twist. "They're saying it's your fault. What happened to her, Leo?"
I muttered a curse under my breath. Chona looked at me like I'd committed murder, like I'd left a body in the hallway and walked away without a second glance.
"She hasn't been eating for days," Angel spoke softly, almost too gently, like she was trying to lessen the blow that was clearly about to fall.
"Overreacting. Being dramatic," Arianah muttered, just loud enough for everyone to hear.
"Why?" Chona asked, turning to Angel, her voice laced with suspicion.
"They broke up," Angel replied, her gaze flicking to me for a moment. "Monday. Since then, she hasn't touched her food. She's been crying nonstop."
Chona's stare snapped back to me like a blade. I didn't dare meet her eyes. Instead, I took a long sip from my drink, trying to appear nonchalant while my sister's glare felt like it could peel the skin from my face.
"You should visit her, Leo," Chona said quietly. "She's in the clinic right now."
And just like that, the guilt settled in my chest like a stone sinking to the bottom of a deep, dark ocean.
"Yeah, so her parents could catch up with him at the clinic," Chloe said sharply. "They've probably already been called in."
She slapped Josh's arm as if trying to snap him back into some sense of decency. I lowered my gaze to my drink again, watching the bubbles rise and burst as if they could distract me from the tension pressing in from all sides.
"At least show some decency—as her ex, Leo!" Chona's voice was a whip crack in the air. "And while we're at it—why did you even break up?"
"Decency?" Gabriel cut in before I could speak, his tone colder than usual. "If Deleon walks in that clinic, she'll just get her hopes up again."
"It's pretty obvious, Chona," Arianah chimed in, rolling her eyes like she couldn't be bothered with the drama. "They broke up because Leo got tired. Simple as that."
I pressed my lips together, not even trying to hide my disapproval as I looked at her. Arianah always had something to say, and most of the time, Carlos hung on to every word like it was gospel. She trusted her instincts too much—and worse, sometimes they were right.
"If she's being this overly dramatic now," Arianah continued, arms crossed, "can you imagine what she must've been like in the relationship?"
Chona suddenly jabbed her finger hard against my temple. I flinched but didn't get the chance to swat her hand away—she was always faster.
"If you really thought she was that dramatic, then why the hell did you date her in the first place?"
Shit.
I turned and met my sister's glare with one of my own. She stood there, tense and unyielding. I was taller—I'd always been—but that never mattered to Chona. She never backed down. Not once.
"And that's your biggest problem," she said, voice low but deadly. "You keep chasing after girls like it's a sport."
"It should've just been a fling, Leo," Gabriel muttered, far too casually.
Chona didn't let that slide—this time, she smacked him across the head. They all burst into laughter. Except me. I forced a small smile, but honestly? None of this was funny.
"These nerdy, quiet girls… they're not built for the kind of relationships you jump into," Carlos added, tapping his fingers thoughtfully on the table. "They end up choking you—emotionally, I mean."
"Look at Mr. Relationship Expert over here," Gabriel shot back with a grin.
"I'm just saying… based on what I've observed."
Angel finally spoke, her voice soft but edged with conviction. "Girls shouldn't be put into categories. Some quiet ones aren't clingy. Some just… love in silence."
Carlos raised an eyebrow. "Most shy girls fall hard. They expect fairy tales. Knights on white horses. And guys like Leo? They're not that story."
"Cut it out, Carl," I said, glancing at him. "You've clearly thought too much about this."
"Maybe it's not all in his head," Chloe murmured. "He might be speaking from experience."
Chona exhaled sharply and leaned toward me, her hand firm on my shoulder. "Enough with the analysis. Leo, just go. Show your face at the clinic. At least try to act like a decent human being. Don't embarrass us like this. She's the younger sister of my senior, for God's sake."
I looked over at Josh and shrugged, a half-hearted smirk on my face. "Pretty sure we've already mastered the art of embarrassing ourselves."
Josh smirked, wearing that smug expression he always pulls before dropping something unnecessarily cocky. "The girls I like aren't the clingy type. I've got no drama. You're the one with all the girl problems, man. If they're not pulling each other's hair out, they're starving themselves to get your attention!"
That was it for me.
I stood up, my chair scraping loudly against the floor. I had no idea how I managed to sit with them that long. Every word felt like needles, and the weight pressing on my chest was impossible to ignore.
I couldn't take another second of their so-called advice. It wasn't advice—it was blame wrapped in sarcasm and laughter.
And no, I didn't want to see Shanie.
I knew the moment she saw me, she'd think there was hope. And I can't give her that—not when I've already taken so much. But I also knew the inevitable: I'd be summoned again, dragged into the office with my adviser, and this little mess would find its way home. It always does.
Not that I cared. Not really.
"I'm running out of ways to handle this, Mr. Apollo," our adviser began, her voice lined with tension and exhaustion. She usually looked so put together—sharp and collected—but today, her hair was curling tighter than usual, stress twisting through every strand like a warning sign.
I had a feeling the principal chewed her out because of this.
And I just sat there, silent.
If I had the right words to explain myself, I would've said them. But I didn't.
"How many times has this happened just this year, hmm? Care to count it for me?" she asked, arms folded tightly across her chest. Her eyes narrowed the moment she caught me staring.
"And don't you dare disrespect me with that look!" Her voice cracked like a whip across the room.
I blinked rapidly, caught off guard.
I wasn't trying to be disrespectful. I wasn't even thinking anything bad. But if anyone among the four of us was ever guilty of looking at her the wrong way, she was yelling at the wrong guy.
"This is just how I look at people, Ma'am," I muttered with a shrug, my voice low, casual—maybe a little too casual for the tension crackling in the air.
Her arms folded tighter. Her lips were set in a thin, disapproving line, and her heels clicked sharply against the tiled floor as she took a single step forward.
"Answer the question. How many girlfriends do you plan to have every school year, Mr. Deleon?"
"Uh—"
"Don't 'uh' me," she snapped, cutting me off like a blade through air. "Can you please delay your romantic escapades until the next grade level? Is that too much to ask?" Her voice rose, frustration spilling over like an overfilled cup.
"I'm trying to earn a permanent spot at this school, Deleon. Do you have any idea how hard it is already? And now I have you—you and your almost-every-month scandal with a new girl! Do you realize their parents have threatened to pull their daughters out of this school because of you? What am I even supposed to tell Mr.—my God!"
She stopped herself, one hand pressing to her temple like she was physically holding in the exasperation. I didn't say a word. I knew if I did, she'd just twist it into something else, something worse. No answer would satisfy her. In her eyes, I was already the problem.
I could feel eyes watching from the corners of the staff room. Whispers. Half-hidden smirks. And then—
"Who's your sister again? Angel or Arianah?" another teacher chimed in with a raised brow.
"Arianah, ma'am."
"Ah. That explains a lot."
What the hell was that supposed to mean?
"I honestly wonder how Angel turned out so… normal, considering," she said, chuckling lightly as if I weren't still sitting there, as if that wasn't another hit to the ribs. "Thank God she isn't as unhinged as her brother."
And there it was.
The polite version of calling me a disaster.
And all I could do was stand there, swallowing every retort, every insult dressed as concern, pretending their judgment didn't feel like wildfire crawling up my spine.
"Angel Apollo?" one of the teachers scoffed, loud enough for me to hear as I stood near the doorway, half-forgotten in the tension of the room. "That girl's been mine since she was in seventh grade. Just wait—you'll start seeing how closely she mirrors Thirdy."
Thirdy? Are you serious?
What the actual hell?
Did teachers really have nothing better to do than gossip about their students like they're cast members in some half-written telenovela? Wasn't that, like, completely against the code of conduct or something?
"Go back to your classroom, Mr. Deleon," my adviser said with a forced sigh, like she had to physically drag the words from her throat. "I'll call for you once Shanie's parents arrive. And please, for everyone's peace of mind—can you at least wait a month before changing girlfriends again? Just once. Please."
Everyone, it seems, is suddenly an expert on my love life.
Why is it so hard to find someone who doesn't switch personalities a week into the relationship? I don't even mind girls who are high maintenance—I've dated the kind who treat emotional chaos like breakfast. But when they start choking me with rules, expectations, and daily check-ins like I'm on probation, I crack.
Irritation builds up like pressure behind my ribs. And when they start using breakups as leverage, as threats to win arguments? Nah. That doesn't work on me. If you want to leave, go. Door's wide open. Love should never be a test of patience or power.
Then again... who am I kidding?
"Shhh..." I whispered, brushing Layna's hair away from her face as she giggled, a soft sound laced with something that wasn't exactly innocent.
Her fingers curled into my sleeve as she leaned closer, the corners of her lips flushed from laughter and breathless teasing.
It had been months since the last mess. Two secret relationships had come and gone, names barely even whispered now. And now here I was again—on the edge of a new story. A new girl. A new mess, probably. But this one... this one, I might just make official.
People had likely forgotten what happened with Shanie. And if they hadn't, well—maybe they've just stopped caring.
"Here? Really, Leo?" Layna giggled again, her voice featherlight in the quiet corner we found.
I smirked.
This was how it always started.
We were in the living room, surrounded by silence that almost felt sacred. Mom and Dad wouldn't be home until late—they were tangled in another court case that would stretch past dinner. Chona was still stuck at school. As for Arianah… who knew? She was somewhere out there, probably ignoring her phone and the world alike.
Only the two of us remained in the house, and the helpers who barely existed unless you called for them.
"There's a certain thrill doing it here," I whispered.
She lifted her index finger to my lips, gentle but firm, silencing me without a word.
"I told you," she murmured, eyes half-lidded, voice calm but unwavering. "We're not doing it again unless you introduce me to your parents."
I leaned closer, smiling like I always do when I'm about to push my luck. "Isn't that why we're here?" I whispered. "We'll wait... until they arrive."
My lips brushed the curve of her neck, feather-light. A soft sound escaped her, barely there, but enough to tell me everything I needed to know. Even if she claimed to resist, I could feel it—she wanted this. She wanted me.
"Please," I whispered, my voice heavy, almost trembling. "I want you... so badly."
She bit her lip, eyes drifting shut for a second. I felt the tension in her slowly melt away. My heart thudded in anticipation.
"Let's just go to your room," she breathed, hesitant but yielding. "What if one of your maids comes down?"
Yes.
Without a word, I nodded and gently wrapped my hand around her wrist, helping her to her feet. But just as we stood, the front door creaked open.
We froze.
And there she was.
Arianah.
Her eyes locked onto mine, ice-cold and unreadable. She slowly glanced down at our joined hands—warm, exposed—then up to Layna's face, which now wore a startled smile.
"Hi, Arianah!" Layna greeted, her voice light, pretending the air wasn't thick enough to choke on.
But her friendly tone did nothing to thaw the frost that had just settled between us.
"What are you doing here?"
Oh, no.
The moment her voice pierced the room, I instinctively let go of Layna's hand. I turned to face my sister, though every inch of me wanted to disappear. There was a fury in Arianah's eyes I hadn't seen in weeks—not the kind that burned fast and loud, but the quiet, slow kind. The kind that stayed long after the fire.
It used to be me who carried the anger between us. But somewhere along the way, it shifted. Now, I was the one on edge, unsure of where I stood in her world.
"Layna is my girlfriend," I said, voice low, steady, refusing to waver.
A dry laugh escaped her lips. "Oh, really? Then break up with her."
"Arianah, please," Layna tried to reason, her voice soft and pleading. "I love your brother."
"Arianah, don't do this. Don't act like a kid."
She shot me a glare sharp enough to cut skin. "Then stop interfering in my relationships, Leo. And just to refresh your memory—because apparently you need it—I got a permanent mark on my school record because of this girl."
"Arianah, I'm sorry. That was a long time ago," Layna whispered, guilt written all over her face.
Her voice was gentle now, tame. But it only seemed to push my sister further into the storm.
"Of course you're sweet now. You want my brother," Arianah snapped. "But don't think I've forgotten what you did. I never do. No matter how small, I remember every wound people leave on me."
She turned to me again, eyes blazing with something deeper than just anger—it was disappointment, betrayal.
And I stood there, stunned.
A record at school? When? Why?
What happened between them that I didn't know?
So much for my grand debut into the world of public relationships. The moment Arianah dropped that last line, I knew—I just knew—that some things weigh heavier than desire, heavier than lust. When my sister's mad, hell follows. And trust me, it's not the dramatic, screaming type. No. It's the silent, soul-crushing kind that makes the air at home suffocating. Even Chona, who's fearless in every way, treads lightly around her when she's like this.
She doesn't just go cold. She shuts you down with logic so sharp, your words bleed before you can even say them. And don't bother trying to win an argument—you won't. She's the kind of girl who will carve your defeat with a raised brow and walk away victorious without even turning back.
So, really, it wasn't worth it. I'd rather have peace. Girls come and go, anyway. Why bother fighting a war when the prize isn't even permanent?
"Visit your Grandma," Mom reminded us one Sunday morning, her voice part request, part command.
We were heading to the old Mendoza residence—this ancestral house nestled inside a quiet, aging subdivision in Del Rosario. It sat there like a relic of forgotten summers, about fifteen to thirty minutes away depending on the traffic. But today, our driver took the diversion road, so we arrived in under fifteen minutes.
"She's old and alone, and the last time you were there was Christmas," Mom said, adjusting her earrings by the car mirror. "Your dad and I will be gone for a few hours to meet a client. We'll be back before lunch. See you then, alright?"
"I visit her sometimes, My. It's Arianah and Deleon who rarely go," Chona muttered, trying to dodge the guilt trip.
"Still. Her Sundays are sacred to her—church, routine, the usual. Leo…" she gave me that look, the one that said 'don't argue.'
I nodded. I already knew what to do.
"Church and home, that's all. Take her to San Felipe, then straight back. Leave Mom's nurse and the driver here. You drive her yourself."
"I'll help out with Grandma, Mom!" Chona beamed, raising her hand like she was volunteering for something heroic.
"Good. You all know your parts. Arianah—"
"Yes, Mommy," my sister answered smoothly, already one step ahead as always.
And so, we fell into rhythm. The plan, simple as it was, had one catch—I didn't have a license yet. But I knew how to drive. Well enough, at least. With hands steady on the wheel and Chona beside me in the passenger seat, we rolled out from the driveway, the morning sun casting soft light across the dashboard.
The church was nearby—just within the subdivision. A quiet drive, no more than three to five minutes from Grandma's house. Still, it felt longer, like time had slowed just to make space for the familiar rituals of Sunday.
"Grandma, what delicious magic have you prepared for us today?" Chona asked the moment we pulled up, her voice full of cheer.
"Food again," I muttered under my breath, keeping my eyes on the road as I shifted gears—the car climbing slightly uphill toward the chapel.
A slap landed on the back of my head.
"Ow!" I laughed, rubbing the spot. My older sister was merciless.
"You'll thank me later," she smirked.
"Your favorite, of course!" Grandma's voice was warm, sweet, and full of affection. "Lasagna."
"Ugh, now I'm starving!" Chona whined, clutching her stomach dramatically.
"Didn't you eat breakfast?" Grandma asked, amused.
"We did, Grandma. But her stomach has no bottom. It's a black hole," I teased.
Grandma chuckled—a warm, gravelly sound that somehow always made you feel like the world was still a gentle place. Arianah and I followed suit, our laughter rising naturally, while Chona sat there looking tragically betrayed. She was officially outnumbered.
Poor Chona. We were all teaming up against her now.
Grandma was well into her seventies, though I couldn't say for sure if it was early or mid. The soft lines of her face told stories we hadn't heard yet. She wore pale gray reading glasses—part function, part fashion, and partly to shield her eyes from the morning light. As we stepped out of the car, her gaze moved over each of us with tender familiarity.
Chona looked like she was attending a summer wedding rather than Sunday mass—dressed in a black floral dress paired with creamy sandals. Grandma leaned on a cane now. Her once jet-black hair held its color stubbornly, though we all knew it was salon-enhanced. White roots peeked through like secrets.
She immediately clung to Chona's arm. My sister responded by gently clasping her wrinkled hand, like the moment had always belonged to them.
"Even on Sundays, Mariano and Amelita are working. Don't you children feel neglected?" Grandma asked with a smile that barely masked her concern.
"No, Grandma!" Chona laughed, her eyes crinkling in delight.
I circled around to stand on Grandma's left, just in case she needed more support. Arianah was already a few steps ahead, walking gracefully, her eyes scanning the quiet crowd making their way toward the church.
I tilted my head back, listening with one ear to Grandma and Chona's cheerful exchange. The church perched like a watchtower on top of the hill—a Filipino-Chinese sanctuary surrounded by trees and silence. If you turned around from the entrance, you'd see the city below, glittering faintly in the distance, and beyond it, the sea—a quiet port bathed in gold.
The wind was soft and playful here, dancing through our hair. But inside, the church was cooled by humming air conditioners, giving it that familiar, gentle chill that hugged your skin.
We passed a koi pond on our way in—crystal water shimmering with movement as dozens of fish swam lazily beneath the surface. I wanted to linger, to watch them glide like poetry, but the mass was about to begin. Maybe later, I told myself.
We settled on the fourth row. Most of the seats were already occupied—people from Grandma's neighborhood, judging by how many stopped to smile and greet her like an old friend.
I looked up.
The ceiling was stunning—an intricate dance of wood, steel, and glass. Clearly, the whole community had poured their hearts into this place. It wasn't just a building. It was a story of their faith, carefully carved into every beam.
I drifted, my eyes trailing the flow of people arriving—slow, reverent. Then something caught my attention.
Arianah. She was giggling.
She and Grandma had fallen into conversation, their voices a soft murmur at my side. With her seated to my left, and Grandma on my right, there was no way I wouldn't hear them.
"Why did she reject him, Grandma?" Arianah asked with a mischievous grin.
"Oh, it was so obvious, Ana. Amelita loved your father. And he was the top of his class—no one came close."
I froze.
Wait, what?
Were they talking about Mom's ex? No, no, no. I don't need to hear about my parents' love lives. That's nightmare fuel. Just imagining it already makes me want to erase the past twenty seconds of my life.
I quickly faced forward again, pretending I hadn't heard a word.
Up ahead, a young woman stood beside her family, carefully holding a transparent plastic pouch filled with what looked like offerings. She bowed slightly and handed it to one of the church volunteers at the altar steps.
I swear, for a moment, it felt like the heavens peeled open their clouds just to spotlight her. Like the world decided to pause so I could see her — really see her — in the kind of stillness that only happens in dreams or divine miracles.
She was beautiful.
And it wasn't the loud kind of beauty. It was the kind that crept up on you, the kind that stunned you into silence and left your heart fumbling for a beat. I'd never been one to care too much about complexion — morena, fair, I admired both. But right then, under the soft church light, I found myself falling into this newfound awe for pale skin kissed by sunlight.
Her lips were a deep, striking red — I couldn't even tell if it was lipstick or if they just naturally bloomed that way. Her eyes were almond-shaped, fringed with lashes that curled delicately like brushstrokes. Her brows were perfectly arched, shaped like they had a story to tell. Her hair, dark as midnight, parted precisely at the center. It curled gently at the ends, just brushing her ears, held in place by dainty crystal flower clips that sparkled every time she turned her head.
She wore a baby blue dress, simple yet so elegant, falling just to her knees. On her feet were beige strappy sandals, quiet and graceful, just like her.
And then — she smiled.
A soft curve of her lips that nearly knocked the air out of my lungs. I could almost hear it, even though she didn't say a word: "No problem."
She glanced my way.
God.
Deleon, get a grip! I probably look like a slobbering dog right now.
Without turning my head, I snapped my gaze forward, pretending to admire the altar. Play it cool. Just play it cool. As if I hadn't just had a full mental breakdown over a single look.
But damn it, she's my type. No question. She looked like she'd fallen out of a painting or maybe slipped from the stars and landed softly on earth — my personal miracle in a baby blue dress.
Then again… what if she's just like the others? All sugar and softness at first, and then a psycho storm once you say the wrong thing?
"Good morning," came the polite chorus from the row in front of us — the girl's family had taken their seats there.
I noticed she was still looking in my direction. Her expression? Impossible to read. Not a smirk. Not a frown. Just… watching.
I cleared my throat and leaned back a little, trying to look like I wasn't losing my mind.
This is going to be easy. I can already feel it.
"There are so many people here," Arianah murmured beside me, her voice low, almost drowned by the faint hymns echoing in the church.
"I know…" I replied, my gaze sweeping casually over the rows behind us, eyes drifting from face to face.
That's when I caught sight of a familiar one — a batchmate from school. We exchanged a brief nod, a quiet exchange of hey, long time through smiles and silent mouthing, before he slipped into the pew where his family waited.
As I turned back around, I felt it again.
Her eyes.
And there she was — that same girl from earlier, the one wrapped in sunlight and baby blue. Her gaze was on me, but just for a second. The moment our eyes met, she looked away so fast it was almost poetic. But not before I caught it — the slight blush creeping up her cheeks, the way her teeth gently tugged at her bottom lip like she was trying to hide behind it.
My lips parted slightly. My breath hitched. I brought a hand to my mouth, pressing down gently to suppress the grin threatening to escape.
If it had been any other girl, I wouldn't have even cared. I wouldn't have noticed. But something about her pulled me in like a tide — quiet but unstoppable.
I didn't dare look at her again. Instead, I faced forward and let her believe I was no longer paying attention. That's how I knew — I could feel her eyes linger. That soft, curious stare. Longer this time.
Gotcha.
I flicked my gaze toward her again — just fast enough to catch her snapping her head away.
Too late.
She'd been watching.
A smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth, a quiet kind of victory curling in my chest. But it quickly faded when Arianah's elbow found my ribs.
"She's going to reject you," she said flatly, not even bothering to look up from her lap.
I didn't need to ask who she meant.
I chuckled under my breath. "I don't think so."
Because the way she looked at me — even if she didn't mean to — said everything.