As soon as Grant says the words, though, Emmitt comes jogging up to the track field, wiping sweat off his brow with the bottom of his shirt.

I try not to gape at the sight of his abs, much less the snake tattoo winding across his rib cage, quickly diverting my gaze.

“Holy shit,” whispers one of the juniors behind me. “Chloe, are you seeing this?”

“Oh my God, he’s so hot, Sadia,” the other junior says breathlessly, as if she’s somehow winded from the sight of Emmitt. “Oh my God.”

“Stop it,” I say to both of them, thwacking them upside the heads. “This is not the time to thirst over the new kid.”

Chloe pouts at me. “You only say that because he likes you.”

“I—what?” I shake my head, though my cheeks are suddenly too warm. “He flirts with everyone. Don’t feed into random gossip.”

“Random gossip,” Chloe mocks, exchanging a look with Sadia. “Whatever you say, Mina.”

One of these days, I’m going to be convicted of murder. It’s inevitable at this point.

Chloe and Sadia must sense the homicidal energy radiating off me because they quickly scamper away just as Emmitt approaches Grant and me.

“Sorry, my mom—” Emmitt frowns, running a hand through his blond hair. “Sorry.”

Some of the strange heat building in my stomach disappears at the mention of his mother. This isn’t the first time he’s been late because of Claire Gong, and for some reason, I doubt it’ll be the last.

“It’s fine,” Rosie says, propping her chin on my shoulder. “Let’s get started?”

I nod, absently patting her cheek. “Let’s all form a circle.”

Once everyone sits down on the large picnic blanket Grant brought, I gesture to my clipboard. We counted all of the votes cast by the film club for who should be in the film, and most of it was in league with our own decisions.

Except... “The decision we’re most torn on is the casting of Vivienne,” I say, looking around at all the familiar faces around me. “The votes were very close between casting Sofia Dhital or casting Manuela Ureña.”

“Who did you vote for?” Grant asks, rubbing his mouth, his gaze uncertain. He was one of the few people that voted for a third option.

“I—”

“Sofia,” Rosie says, and I immediately seal my lips together.

It takes a second, but I force myself to relax my facial muscles and smile. “Yeah. We wanted to do another round of voting, for anyone who might have voted for someone other than Sofia and Manuela, and then go from there.”

“Sounds good,” says one of the other seniors, and everyone else nods.

“Raise your hand if you would like to vote for Sofia,” I say, and Rosie’s hand shoots up beside me. I don’t know why it makes me want to sigh.