ACIR HILLS
It was still pouring the next day.
The automatic doors slid open with a soft whoosh, letting in another gust of damp, chilly air that smelled of rain and asphalt. I instinctively pulled the brim of my black cap lower over my face. The hoodie swallowed most of my hair, the disposable mask hid everything below my eyes, and I kept both hands buried inside the oversized pocket in front of me.
If someone from Newford University walked in… if someone from Moon Café recognized me… if someone saw me shopping with my Professor, Zaijian Hewson, my entire life would be over before Christmas even started.
“I still think you look suspicious,” Zaijian murmured beside me.
I shot him a look. “I look suspicious because I’m trying not to get recognized.”
Almost rolling my eyes, I find it d
