The school hallways felt unnervingly hollow without him.
It was a stupid, irrational thought, but it clung to me all day like static. Every time I turned a corner, my eyes scanned the throng of students out of sheer, infuriating habit, searching for a familiar broad-shouldered frame, for that messy dark hair that always looked like he'd just run his hands through it. I was looking for Tyler. And the fact that I was looking for him made my stomach twist with self-loathing.
He was a ghost. Not in calculus, not at his locker, not even leaning against the hood of his stupidly expensive car in the parking lot with his pack of jock-acolytes. The absence of his particular brand of infuriating, muscle-bound distraction left a void. It was an itch I couldn't scratch, a silence that was louder tha
