Monday, school resumes as if nothing happened. Well—sort of. Nate spent the weekend with his family after the incident, and I knew the moment he saw us, he was going to have a few things to say.
Sure enough, Nate makes a few attempts in between classes to make his inquiries with either me or Celeste, but all the teachers seem to be dead set on focusing on our current work. Exams are drawing close, which is another thing I don’t want to think about.
I scarce make it to lunch, sitting at our usual table with my tray, when Nate skips the server booth and heads straight for me. I bite down a smile despite everything. You know it’s a big deal when Nate skips a meal—especially lasagna. Celeste, who comes in after him, seems to notice it, too, grabbing two trays in the front and heading for the
