The silence between them lingered longer than Sheila expected.
It followed her into the next morning like a shadow she couldn’t shake off, curling around her thoughts, creeping into every attempt at concentration. She told herself it was ridiculous. One conversation one almost confession shouldn’t have the power to disrupt her focus. And yet, as she stood in front of her mirror tying her hair into a neat ponytail, she found herself replaying every word Atticus had said.
One day… I’m going to kiss you.
Her stomach twisted.
She exhaled sharply, grabbing her bag. “Not happening,” she muttered to herself, as if saying it aloud would make it true.
The arena buzzed louder than usual when she arrived. There was energy in the air—sharp, electric, restless. Sheila noticed it immediately. Playe
