Monday mornings sucked. That wasn't up for debate. The halls were loud, people buzzing with gossip and half-finished assignments, but underneath it all there was that dragging, heavy ugh that came with the start of a new week.
I was leaning against the lockers, chatting with Marina, just talking about nothing in particular while I kept trying not to sound half-dead from lack of sleep. She was animated, whining about how much homework Halifax gave over the weekend and I was just nodding along, letting her vent.
Then I spotted him—Trent—coming down the hall like a commercial for varsity athletics. He had that easy, unshaken stride, the kind of presence that automatically drew eyes.
"Morning, bro," he greeted, sticking his hand out before he'd even fully reached me.
I clasped it, and the look in his eyes told me everything. A quiet, I've got this from here.
I glanced at Marina, then back at him. The hint was clear.
So I nodded, forcing a casual smile. "See you later, Marina."
