Tyler
Second half of classes was war.
And I tried. I really tried to keep my head straight—give the classes my undivided attention.
But somehow my mind kept drifting, my brows drawn together. And I couldn’t count how many times I stopped myself from wondering how Sydney was doing back there.
“No one?” the teacher’s voice cut through. “Not even you, Sinclair?”
I heard it, but my brain didn’t register it at first.
“Sinclair!” The voice was sharper now.
I lifted my head, suddenly aware of my surroundings—eyes had turned my way, staring expectantly at me.
But the teacher’s was the most piercing. That frown etched across her wrinkled face like it belonged there.
“I’m sorry, ma’am.” I straightened in my seat. “What was the question?”
She stepped forward slowly, her eyes never leaving m
