Burying my face in my hands I released a quiet whimper. I had practically begged her to kiss me and cried when she hadn’t.

I had to move out. There was no other way. I didn’t think I could ever look Noelle in the eye anymore, much less share a room with her for the rest of the year.

Had she been a boy, it would not have been a big deal; I could have laughed it away and it would have been forgotten the next day. But she was a girl and I had told her I wanted to kiss her—

every time I look at you—and the idea of the consequences was enough to make my throat feel like there was a noose around it, the loose end of it clutched in her hand with nothing I could do to get it back.

What I didn’t understand was why she hadn’t pushed me away. She hadn’t even seemed angry; then again, maybe she was today, now that she had slept on it. Maybe the reason why she wasn’t here now was that she was so disgusted with me that she didn’t want to be in the same room with me or—

Forcing myself to take a deep breath, I pressed my hands over my eyes. There was no use in panicking now. What happened had happened. I couldn’t spend all day overthinking it.

With this resolution, I got out of bed.

It was a Saturday, so at least I didn’t have to be in any classes with her. Instead, I spent the day catching up on homework with Seth in the common room. When he had to leave for drama club rehearsal, I gathered my things and found myself a windowsill in one of the many alcoves in the girls’ wing. With the rain pattering softly against the window, the wind howling around the castle, and my back against the brick wall, I quickly got immersed in the pages of Great Expectations, and as the scenery of bleak nineteenth-century England unfolded around me, I felt calmer than I had all day.

That was, until a pair of boots echoed down the hallway, resolute footsteps making their way closer until they came to a halt right next to me.

“You know we have a room where you can do your whole book nerd thing, right?”

I stilled, my hand frozen in the motion of flipping a page. For a second I was overcome with the childish urge to simply pretend I didn’t notice her. Instead, I gathered all my courage and raised my eyes to meet her gaze. “Yes.”

Noelle hummed quietly, the hint of a smile tugging at her lips.

I was still trying to figure out whether it was condescending or if she was just amused when she asked, “How are you? Hungover?”

“I’m fine.”

“Did you see the article on The Chitter Chatter?” Now she definitely seemed amused.

Meanwhile, my throat felt like it was closing up at her question, the noose tugging a little tighter. “Noelle, I’m sorry about what happened in that closet. I didn’t mean to come on to you or anything. I was kind of out of it, so . . . I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”