21.
KINGSLEY'S POV The bass from the speakers vibrated through the bar like a second heartbeat I didn’t want. Felix had practically dragged me here, claiming I needed to “stop brooding like a damn statue” after the disaster at school. The slap still burned on my cheek hours later,, stinging so badly, but Summer’s words had cut deeper. “You’re just like every other entitled piece of trash.” I downed the rest of my whiskey, the liquid burning a path down my throat. Felix was somewhere on the dance floor, laughing with strangers, living his soft life like the world wasn’t collapsing. I envied him. My thoughts kept circling back to her—Summer’s hollow eyes in the computer lab, the way she pushed everyone away even when she was drowning. “Another one?” the bartender asked. I nodded. Why not? M
- Writer
