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“I know.”
“Savannah’s probably looking for you.”
“Let her look.”
Mia took it.
Three hundred and twelve messages. Every single one ending the same way. it's us tonight kyler quinn
He held out his hand. Not the quarterback’s hand, not the golden boy’s hand. Just Kyler’s—the one that used to pass her sour gummy worms in detention.
“You didn’t walk.”
“I told Savannah I had a headache.” He stepped closer. “Mia, I’m sorry. I froze. You showed up and everyone was watching and I just—I didn’t know how to be us out there.”
