Noah didn’t speak to me for two days after the car, not even a word, not a glance.
In class, he acted like I didn’t exist. I sat through lectures, my hands clenched in my lap, trying not to look at him, trying not to remember the sound he made when he came inside me. The way he whispered my name like it hurt.
I told myself I didn’t care and it was just s*x but when I passed him in the hall and he looked through me like I was air…
I realized I’d been lying.
The ache in my chest felt bigger than the baby growing inside me.
Desmond found me sitting outside the Fine Arts building, a half-eaten croissant in my lap and my hoodie sleeves pulled down over my fingers. I didn’t even notice him until he dropped a paper cup in front of me.
“Chai latte,” he said. “Extra cardamom. You look like yo
