I barely made it through my classes without my brain melting into a puddle of frustration. It wasn’t the coursework—it was the fact that every time I checked my phone, Dario’s name sat there like an unwanted tattoo, reminding me that my captor-turned-chauffeur was waiting.
Waiting to drive me home like I was some delicate mafia princess.
Like hell.
I shoved my books into my bag with a little too much force.
Maya, who had been watching me struggle with my very obvious annoyance, leaned against the lockers and smirked. "You’re thinking of bailing on him, aren’t you?"
I sighed dramatically. "Thinking? More like dreaming."
As if on cue, my phone buzzed.
Dario: You have exactly five minutes to get outside.
I groaned and showed Maya the message.
She smirked. "Romantic."
"Shut up."
"Yo
