Jace showed Maya the poem the next day at lunch, but the room was not empty.
Priya was sitting three tables away, watching them. She had been watching them for a week now, and Jace could feel it. Every time he sat down with Maya, Priya's eyes followed him. He did not know what she knew. He did not know what Maya had told her. He just knew that something was different.
He slid his phone across the table to Maya anyway. "I wrote something," he said.
She picked it up and read in silence. He watched her face the whole time, looking for something, anything, that would tell him what she was thinking. She read it twice, then set the phone down.
"It's okay," she said.
"Just okay?"
"The imagery is strong. The line about the house with no windows is the best part. But the ending is weak. You'r
