IVY
KADE told me not to make a sound.
No s**t.
I was half-naked in a damn supply closet, tangled in limbs and heat and a hurricane of very, very bad decisions, and now there were voices. Adult voices. Authority voices. This was it. Expulsion. Rustication. The walk of shame through the school gates with my mom on the phone screaming bloody murder while I tried to explain how I went from winning a match to hiding in a closet with him.
Kade dragged us deeper into the closet, pulling me behind a giant blue industrial tarp thing that was definitely supposed to cover some scary machinery but now doubled as the cover for my crumbling dignity. His grip tightened around my wrist. He was too calm. Calm in a way that made me want to punch him or maybe kiss him again. Ugh. Focus, Ivy. Shame now, e
