Klara
The three days that followed were the most beautiful, intoxicating days of my life.
Ryan had completely rewritten the rules of our town. He held my hand at my locker, sat next to me at lunch, and drove me home every single afternoon in his truck with the windows rolled down, completely indifferent to the stares and the hushed gossip that followed us everywhere. He was fiercely, beautifully possessive, his hand always resting on the small of my back or his thumb tracing circles on my thigh whenever we sat down.
By Thursday evening, the initial shock of the school had died down into a quiet, simmering resentment from Sophie’s crowd, but inside our bubble, everything was perfect.
We were sitting in my bedroom. The evening air was cool, the balcony door shut tight against the autumn
