The art studio is supposed to be locked after four o'clock, but Zeke has a key. Perks of being Ms. Rodriguez's favorite student, he'd said with that crooked smile that makes my stomach flip.
"Are you sure about this?" he asks as he unlocks the door, glancing down the empty hallway. Most of the school cleared out an hour ago, but there are still a few teachers in the building. Coach Martinez. Mr. Chen in the math wing. The janitor making his rounds.
"I'm sure." And I am. My heart is racing, but not from fear. From anticipation. From the delicious thrill of doing something reckless, something just for us.
He pushes the door open and I slip inside, my pulse quickening as he follows and locks it behind us. The studio smells like paint and turpentine and possibility. Late afternoon light str
