Ivory POV
I skipped my first class. I couldn't do it. I couldn't walk into a room full of people who had spent the last hour dissecting a photo of my tongue down the throat of the school’s most dangerous guy.
I retreated to the only place I felt safe….a cramped, flickering stall in the third-floor bathroom. I sat on the closed toilet lid, my knees pulled to my chest, and I bawled. I was literally bawling at this point, my breath hitching in my throat as the humiliation burned through me.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw that picture. I saw the way I looked willing, desperate, easy.
I hated Daniel. I hated the wine. But most of all, I hated myself for believing, even for a second, that the hill was real.
Suddenly, the heavy door to the bathroom swung open, and the sound of high pit
