Sunday. Again.
You'd think Sundays would feel like Sundays, but with Celestia in my house, it never feels like anything normal. If anything, it feels like I've been trapped in some eternal fever dream where studying means fifty percent actual notes and fifty percent Celestia finding new ways to derail my concentration.
And—don't even get me started on Trent.
Yeah, The Cannon. Our school's golden boy. Somewhere out there right now, he's probably running plays in his head about how to get Marina to say yes when he finally asks her out. And Marina? The girl I grew up with? Probably doesn't even have the faintest clue that the star quarterback is lowkey plotting to date her.
And look, it's not like I'm not defensive or anything. Okay. I am defensive. I've known Marina my whole life, and now this guy—who I've literally only known for a week—is suddenly acting all earnest about her. Yeah, sure, we're "friends" now. Whatever that means. But do I trust him completely? …Not a chance.
