The rain had stopped just before dusk, leaving the air thick with the smell of wet pavement. Ezra sat in the school library, pretending to read. The truth was, he was watching Noah across the room—Noah, who was supposed to be working on an English essay but was instead tapping his pen against his notebook like he was counting down to something.
Every so often, Noah's eyes flicked toward him. When they met, neither of them looked away fast enough.
It had been two days since the rooftop. Since the kiss.
Neither had said a word about it.
Ezra's phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, expecting a text from Noah—only to see Adrian's name.
> Adrian: Need to talk. Greenhouse. Now.
Ezra frowned. Adrian wasn't the type to send urgent messages.
He shoved his book into his bag and left, ignoring the way Noah's gaze followed him to the door.
---
The greenhouse smelled faintly of damp soil. Lucien was there too, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets, while Adrian stood near the center, shifting uncomfortably.
"What's going on?" Ezra asked.
Adrian glanced at Lucien before speaking. "Someone's been asking questions about us. About… who we spend time with."
Lucien's tone was casual, but his eyes were sharp. "And by 'someone,' he means half the basketball team."
Ezra's stomach tightened. "What kind of questions?"
"Ones that sound like rumors waiting to happen," Lucien said, crossing his arms.
Adrian looked at Ezra. "You and Noah… did something happen?"
Ezra froze. He didn't answer. He didn't have to—his silence said enough.
Lucien let out a low whistle. "Guess that explains why Noah's been glaring at anyone who even looks your way."
Ezra's chest tightened. "This can't get out."
"Yeah," Adrian said quietly. "Neither can this." He looked at Lucien, and Ezra caught it—a flicker of something unspoken, familiar. The same way he'd been looking at Noah.
Ezra realized then: he wasn't the only one hiding.
The air in the greenhouse felt heavier now, filled with secrets too big to fit in the space between them.
Lucien broke the tension with a smirk. "Guess we've all got lines we're not supposed to cross."
Ezra didn't smile back. "The problem is, we already crossed them."
Outside, the rain began again—soft at first, then louder, like it was trying to wash something away.
None of them moved.
---