ASTOR
My jaw hit the floor when Marcello whipped out a crumpled note from his locker.
My brain did a triple flip. Wasn't just minutes ago that Rome found some secret admirer note in his locker? Now it was Marcello's turn. This was getting weirder than finding gym socks in the freezer.
We huddled in a tight circle, hearts hammering like drum solos, as Marcello carefully unfolded the paper. The same rosy scent, the same fancy handwriting that looped and swirled like a person with cursive handwriting.
We traded glances, eyes wide as bowling balls.
This was beyond coincidence, it was like the Locker Gremlins were playing Cupid with bad penmanship.
"Okay," I said, trying to sound cool, but my voice cracked like an egg dropped on the cafeteria floor. "Let's compare notes, literally."
Ro
