She stopped running once she was far enough from the library. She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. She should have known. Denzel had always been the nicest out of the three, the most understanding, and he certainly had paid extra attention to her. She should have known the day would come. Did she like him?
Yes.
But not in that way.
She leaned onto the wall of the west wing. Breathe in; breathe out, she told herself, exhausted from all the running. What a fool, she scolded herself. She shouldn’t have run. What would she do when she meet him again?
After quite a while—a long while—just standing there, facing the closed doors across from her, she left. With slow, short steps, she headed to her room with her head hanging low. Harkin would eat her alive. She was a good ten minut
