AMY’S POV
By Friday night, the walls of my dorm room felt like they were actively closing in on me.
I was rolling on my mattress, staring blankly at the ceiling.
On my desk, my biology textbook lay open, the pages completely ignored. I had tried reading the same paragraph on cellular respiration six times, but the words refused to flow. They just sat there, like a meaningless blur of black ink.
My phone lay face-down beside me. I didn't need to look at it to know that Ryder still hadn't replied.
"You've been staring at that blank screen for three days," Maya said, turning away from the mirror where she was adjusting her dark eyeliner. She walked over to my bed, crossing her arms. "You're moping, Amy. And I'm not leaving you here to suffocate in your own head tonight. We are going to
