SARAH
The cafeteria buzzed with its usual chaos of clinking trays, but all I could focus on was Tasha’s knowing smile as she leaned across our small table.
“He likes me?” I repeated, my voice barely above a whisper.
I waited for her response. Part of me wanted to dismiss whatever theory she’d developed, but another part was desperate to hear what she had to say.
“Yes, I’m sure he likes you. Can’t you see the special attention he gives to you?” Tasha said, punctuating her words with an exaggerated pout that made me want to crawl under the table.
I rolled my eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t fall out of my head. “Please spare me the details, Tash. You want me to believe that spoiled asshole?”
The words came out harsh, but they felt necessary. Admitting that Jett might actually
