If anyone had asked me what it felt like to run away from your own ghosts, I would’ve told them it feels like this, hair slipping from a bun that I didn’t have time to fix, heart beating too fast, footsteps echoing down the hall like I was trying to outpace something invisible.
By the time Taylor and I slowed, the adrenaline left my body in a dizzy rush. A stray fringe of hair had fallen across my face, brushing against my cheek with every breath. I frowned and shoved it away impatiently, glaring at him.
“You know,” I said, still a little breathless, “if anyone heard what you just said, they’d think I’m always mean and depressed around you.”
Taylor’s lips quirked upward in that lopsided grin I’d come to expect, but this time it was softer. He leaned closer, not teasing, not overdramatic
