By Friday, I made a decision.
I was done.
Done overthinking.
Done waiting.
Done letting Marcelo Rivera mess with my head like I was some option he could pick up and drop whenever he felt like it.
If he wanted to act like nothing happened—
Fine.
I could do that too.
I didn’t wear anything special.
That was the funny part.
Same jeans. Same hoodie. Same me.
But something had changed.
Not outside.
Inside.
I walked through the hallway with my head a little higher, my steps a little steadier.
And for once… I didn’t look for him.
“Okay, wait,” my best friend grabbed my arm, eyes wide. “What is going on with you?”
“Nothing,” I said, opening my locker.
“You’re glowing.”
I snorted. “I’m not glowing.”
“You are,” she insisted. “And people are noticing.”
I rolled my eyes—until I fe
