I sat on the low brick wall just outside the school gates, my backpack hanging loosely off one shoulder and my phone in my lap. The student parking lot was nearly empty, and this November air is starting get it’s almost winter bite. I looked down at my phone screen as Jakob’s text was still pulled up.
“Flat tire. Unavoidable delay. I will update soon. Will more than likely have to send alternate pick up. Sorry Miss Sereyna.”
I sigh, then bite my bottom lip. Of course. Figures. My typical delay of thirty minutes just to sit and think in the quiet—was now—just waiting.
I opened the Lyft app, thumb hovering over the confirmation button for my ride. I can cover myself, no need to bother anyone.
The sudden roar of a motorcycle made my jump and glance up. Holt was across the lot, in the teac
