The next evening, I’m late to meet Arun. I know he has planned something else for us to do than lay around in his bedroom watching s**t on his laptop and making out and I have been secretly excited about it all day since he told me at breakfast.
I’m humming to myself, too giddy for my own good when I pass by Morgan’s bedroom. The door is ajar, and I can hear talking coming from the room. It’s quiet enough that I don’t think of anything of it at first until a voice I know all too well rings out and I freeze, backtracking and pushing my body up against the heavy door to try to listen in.
“Neveah Thomas isn’t anything to worry about,”
I have the sudden urge to kick the door open all the way and demand they speak all the s**t they are about to say to each other to my face. Do they think my
