Irish’s POV
I sit in class, staring at the open textbook in front of me, but I don’t see the words. The letters blur together, meaningless shapes on the page. My fingers grip the edge of the desk, my knuckles turning pale. My mind isn’t here. It’s on her. It’s on Ava.
She had refused to let me follow her home yesterday. I had wanted to, my entire body itching to chase after her, but she had looked at me with those stubborn eyes, daring me to respect her space. I had known it was a bad idea to let her go alone, but she didn’t give me a choice. And now, regret sits heavy on my chest like a weight I can’t shake off.
I don’t know if she made it home safely. I don’t know if she’s okay. And it’s driving me insane. My fingers tighten even more around the desk, my jaw clenching so hard it aches
