Micah gritted his teeth so hard his jaw ached. Every nerve in him screamed to snap at Emile for badmouthing him in front of Dean and Jacklin, to confront that ungrateful boy for talking behind his back, but he swallowed it down. He was Asena, he reminded himself.
He dropped his head, wanting to turn around and leave, but there was no way out. Every direction was packed, bodies pressing like a tide he couldn't swim against. He could only keep walking, moving along with the flow.
Micah edged closer to the pavement, eyes darting toward the street. Would it draw too much attention if he just leapt down the street? He looked down at his outfit, the skirt... Nope. What if it got stuck? Oh, that would be the epitome of embarrassment!
So he stayed where he was, stuck between the crowd and the railing, chewing on his bottom lip. His frustration boiled over; the only release was to curse everyone and everything in his mind. Emile, skirt, this whole damn crowd.
