The last period dragged worse than watching a three-hour documentary on dust. I kept checking my phone, caught somewhere between thinking about coffee with Valentina and spiraling over what Isabella's cryptic-ass message that actually meant; Need to see you in my office after school. I have a fuck surprise for you.
Simple. Innocent-looking. But I knew better.
When the final bell finally blessed us with freedom, I made my way to Isabella's AP Bio room. The science wing was already turning into a ghost town—students pouring out like inmates getting parole.
I knocked on the frame of her door. "Mrs. Rodriguez?"
"Come in. Close the door," her voice called back—low, steady, way too calm for how my heartbeat reacted.
I stepped inside—and nearly flatlined.
What the actual fuck…
