I bolt out the door the second the bell rings, my cheek burning.
The look on Noah’s face when he saw my drawing makes me clutch my sketchbook tighter against my chest. Why did he have to flip that page open?
No, why did I draw Tyler and his stupid jawline and messy hair and that sharp, focused look he wears whenever he’s about to throw the ball?
He might not have said anything, especially since the teacher walked in seconds after, but Noah definitely knows. Or he at least suspects what I’ve known for a while now… I have feelings for Tyler.
“Ugh, so stupid,” I groan beneath my breath.
The thought of Noah knowing when I haven’t acknowledged it out loud makes my stomach churn.
I increase my pace towards my locker, thankful that the hallway is bare so no one can witness my embarrassment.
