Mia.
The day crawled by in a haze of lectures and note-taking that I barely registered. Every class felt endless; I kept shifting in my seat, thighs pressing tight together to ease the insistent ache Thorne had left behind.
The slickness hadn’t let up—warm, shameless evidence of him that made me hyper-aware of every little movement.
A few times I caught myself rocking subtly against the chair, chasing friction I couldn’t quite get. Luca sat right beside me, scribbling notes like the perfect student, but I swore I felt his gaze flick over once or twice—sharp, curious. Or maybe I was paranoid.
Either way, I bolted the second the final bell rang.
I was halfway down the crowded hall, weaving through bodies, heart already racing toward the parking lot and whatever stolen moments I coul
