The next morning, Alex is waiting for me. I already know it's about Layla. I think I left everyone wondering what was going on with my outburst yesterday. Maybe that's what tipped my father off. My display was stupid and out of character. I'm sure Alex ran to my father.
I bury everything—all the hate I feel for Alex that tries to consume me—until there's an odd silence in my head. The habit from years of training myself not to think or feel returns like a blanket across my shoulders, and I get out of the car.
"Good morning," I greet Alex.
"I need to know what's going on with that girl. Layla?"
I lock my car and walk to Alex. With a nod, I speak. "Layla and I knew each other as kids. She moved away, and our friendship ended."
Alex folds her arms across her chest with a look of satisfa
