Taking my hand, she leads me to the door. “What does it mean?”

I shift to her side. “Guess it means we’re main characters in each other’s stories.”

Stealing a glance in her direction, she grins. “Too soon to root for a happily ever after?”

As soon as we enter the building, I wrap my arm over her shoulder and hold her close. “Guess it depends on the risk.”

She laughs, the sound a melody to my ears. “I’ll take my chances.”

10

Lark

Harbor Westcott is bad for me.

My grades.

My schoolwork.

My attention.

“Ms. Summerlin.” My professor calls me out in front of everyone. “Why don’t you share with the class what you find so funny about the preservation of cadavers?”

I look up from my phone and the text from Harbor asking me out for Saturday night. “Um . . . there’s nothing funny about cadavers—”

“Correct!” Professor Brown says, pointing the marker in his hand at me and causing me to jump in my seat. “There is nothing funny about cadavers. The donors deserve respect for the sacrifice they’ve made to science.”

“My apologies,” I say about ready to kill Harbor for texting me in class. He’s bad for me. That’s all there is to it. Yet he’s so darn irresistible. My lips still tingle from kissing him.

Glancing back down at the screen again, I smile.

“Ms. Summerlin, bring me your phone. Apparently, it’s too much of a distraction today. I have you for ninety minutes, and your shenanigans have cost the class five of them. We won’t lose any more to your screen addiction.”

My hands begin to tremble. I’ve never been in trouble in my life.

“I think we should keep going with the lesson,” Harbor says from where he’s seated. I glance back along with the entire class.

The professor replies, “That’s what I want to hear, Mr. Westcott. Eager minds create great doctors, but thorough research should always be your guide.”

Harbor is gifted. Trying to save me just earned him brownie points with our hard-ass professor. Impressive.

Then Professor Brown says, “I’m going to give you two options, Ms. Summerlin. Bring me the phone or leave my class.”

I hoped this would go differently, but no luck. Still debating if I should swing my backpack over my shoulder and leave in shame, I choose option one and start down the row toward the center aisle of the auditorium. My throat is dry as I tell people to excuse me, not daring to glance back at where Harbor is sitting.

When I reach the front of the room, Professor Brown says, “Show me what you were looking at.”

Wait, what? Oh no. “I thought you were just going to confiscate it until the end of class?”

“No. I could use a good laugh, though.” I knew I should have chosen option two.

He’s waiting for me to show him the screen. I take a shaky and just do it to get it over with. His eyes roll across the screen and then looks up in the auditorium and finds where Harbor is sitting.