Who was I to say that I did not miss him. Kylian Fitzroy. He had terribly good sense for misinterpreting situations. And I had been simply, utterly, and irrepressibly terrible to him.
I was lying in bed, trying hard to sleep after a long night of studying and my last day of exams was only a few hours away and I should be resting what little mind I have for that paper. In fact, I had caught sleep only for the brief moment for my dreams to be about that time we spent at the back lawn of the Chapel.
After that, sleep would not come again, and so I ended up thinking about the dream and thinking of him.
Oh Kyle.
I did not think Kylian would have respected my wishes to be left alone, but the weekend had flitted by without any sign or sound of him. Yes, I admit I noticed his absence. His spot
