ZEE
The school felt eerier after hours—quiet, like it had exhaled all the noise and chaos of the day and was just... waiting.
The classroom Blake had picked was at the far end of the second floor. Empty. Tidy. Still smelling faintly of dry-erase markers and leftover tension.
I slipped inside, clutching my notebook tighter than necessary.
She was already there—leaning against a desk near the window, her arms crossed, her expression unreadable. For once, she wasn’t in full makeup. No gloss, no fake lashes.
Just Blake, raw and stripped down. Still beautiful. Still dangerous.
“You came,” she said softly, her voice oddly warm.
I sat at the front desk and opened my notes. “You asked for help. I’m not the kind of person who says no to that.”
She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she wa
