LAYLA’S POV
Edward said he’d be out of his room for our study session tonight, but it’s been ten minutes and there’s still no sign of him. Such a great way to demonstrate his commitment to passing midterms with flying colors.
“Edward,” I call, pushing myself to my feet and marching toward his door.
If he thinks I’m letting him skip tutoring after hours of creating revision questions and timetables for him, he’s mistaken. Even if he has a hangover from last night, which shouldn’t even be possible, he’s still sitting through tonight.
Just as I raise my hand to knock, the door swings open.
My hand remains suspended in the air as Edward steps out and maybe it’s the way he fills the doorway or the water dripping from his hair onto his shoulders, but every thought in my head abandons me.
