Klara
The bedroom didn't smell like vanilla anymore. It smelled like the cold, clinical rain that had tracking down my window panes all afternoon.
I sat on the floor, my back pressed against the base of my bed, staring at the empty space where Ryan had stood just hours ago. My mind was a tangled, frantic knot, replaying his words over and over until they lost all meaning.
“I told you what you needed to hear to get my grades up.”
It was a perfect sentence. It was sharp, logical, and entirely in character for the boy the rest of the school thought he was. But it didn't make sense. If it was just about the grades, why did his hands shake when he touched my jaw in the dark? If it was just a game to secure his scholarship, why did his heart beat like a trapped animal against my palms when n
