Ace raises an eyebrow. “What was I doing today? Hm. I got up this morning and had some oatmeal. I drove to school. I had AP Physics, Gym, Russian, English—you were there, of course—lunch, AP Calculus—”

“That is not what I meant.”

“Clarify next time.” Ace grins and his dimples press into his cheeks, little indents that brighten his entire face. “Can you rephrase your question?”

“Oh my God,” I say, mostly to myself. I’m going to kill this boy. “Why did you sit next to me during English?”

Ace tilts his head. “I didn’t know we had assigned seats.”

“We don’t, but you can’t just—” I flail my hands, trying to make my point. Maybe I’m not cut out to be an English major after all, if I can’t manage eloquence in a moment like this. “Why?”

Instead of answering, Ace stands up. “Do you always have ninth free?”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

“Answer mine and I’ll answers yours.”

I sigh. “I have ninth free on Mondays and Thursdays.”

Ace tugs his earphones back from me, wrapping them around his phone before fitting it all in his back pocket. “I have it free every day. We should meet earlier on those days.”

“Maybe I have things to do.”

Ace shrugs. “Never mind then. If you want to, you know where to find me.” He hitches a thumb toward where he was sitting.

Then he saunters toward the staircase, and I have no choice but to follow. “You didn’t answer my question, Ace.”

“I will, once we get to the library,” he says over his shoulder.

As I trail after him, some of the juniors in the stairway give me incredulous looks, and my cheeks burn. I’m glad my skin is dark enough that it can be written off.

Soon, we’re in the library and afforded a semblance of privacy. I take the lead once we’re inside, heading for a table in the back, where people are least likely to stare at us.

“Explain,” I say as I sit down.

Ace takes all the time in the world settling into his seat, even though he doesn’t have a bag to situate. He slowly shrugs off his leather jacket, revealing yet another fancy designer sweater underneath it, and I give him an irate look.

Once he’s finally done, he waves a hand toward my expression. “That’s why.”

“What?”

“How annoyed with me are you right now?”

I snort. “On a scale of one to ten? Fifty.”

“Exactly.”

“What are you talking about?”

Ace leans forward across the table, his gaze dark and hypnotic. “There’s a spark in you, Karina Ahmed.”

“A...spark?” I shake my head. Maybe Ace is high. Maybe he’s been high all day. That would explain a lot, actually.