The worst part about Mia's theory wasn't that it sounded ridiculous.
It was that I couldn't stop hoping she was right.
"Jace Donovan is not falling for me," I mutter to myself, adjusting the strap of my heavy backpack as I navigate the crowded brick courtyard.
The first official week of classes at Maplewood University is absolute chaos. Students are sprinting in every direction, bikes are whizzing past, and the crisp Vermont autumn air is sharp enough to bite at my nose. I look down at my campus map, feeling like a total cliché freshman.
But my brain isn't actually on my upcoming intro to communications lecture. It’s still trapped under that rainy awning.
Every single hour of the last few days has been an endless loop of torture. I replay the sudden heat of his hand on my waist. The w
