CLARISSA’S POV
The scratch of pens against paper fills the space of the history classroom. My professor drones on about some ancient war, but my mind is already elsewhere, drifting between boredom and the lingering memory of last night.
Then, a light tap on my shoulder.
I stiffen, glancing to the side. A folded note lands on my desk, slid smoothly by a hand that vanishes just as quickly. I glance around but see nothing but heads bent over notebooks.
Unfolding the paper, I recognize Zaya’s messy scrawl immediately.
Check i********:.
My stomach tightens. That’s never a good sign.
Keeping my expression neutral, I slide my phone out from under my desk, hiding it behind my open textbook. My fingers move quickly as I open the app.
The moment the screen loads, my breath catches.
Right at
