The school library smelled like musty paper, dust and cafeteria food drifting in from the hallway. I sat at one of the tables near the windows, my laptop open, and beside it my calculus book was open as well. Lunch hour hummed softly around—the scrape of chairs, the hum of the student’s low conversations like static—but it was just something I knew was happening, it wasn’t something I was actively attuned to.
Two weeks. That’s how long Holt had been gone. And unfortunately, I’d love to say I haven’t been counting… Because I most certainly was counting.
His absence wasn’t loud. It was quiet. Like a rhythm I’d gotten used to that no longer existed and had to reacquaint myself with how life was before that rhythm had become such an integral part of my life in such a short time.
Crap. I hav
