Dera.
The next class wasn’t supposed to be anything special. I came in wearing the same old jeans, different white shirt. My hair was packed away from my face messily, and I’m pretty sure that my face had that "don’t talk to me” look. I wasn’t here to talk to anyone. Definitely not to him, but I wasn’t about to quit something I said I’d do because of his presence.
The moment I walked in, there he was again. Adrian.
He was already seated, of course. Calm. Collected. Pretending he didn’t almost ruin my life. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing his tattooed forearms like it was nothing. Stupid walking memory I didn’t ask to remember.
“Good morning.” He said, looking up.
I ignored him and headed straight to the back again, where the sun always hit the table just right. I liked t
