A week passed.
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Grace was different.
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Louder.
More expressive.
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The kind of person who turned small moments into something fun.
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Being around her—
was easy.
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Too easy.
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And somehow—
I managed both.
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Roseline after school.
During breaks.
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Grace in class.
Free periods.
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Two different worlds.
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And for a while—
they never crossed.
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That was the plan.
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Keep them separate.
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Control the timing.
Control the space.
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Then—
at the right moment—
let everything collide.
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Simple in theory.
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But the more I thought about it—
the harder it became.
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How do you make something look like an accident…
when it’s anything but?
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That question stayed with me.
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And so did something else.
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Hesitation.
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