I nodded and pointed to the water fountain behind me. “Yeah. Had some water. And now I feel better.”

My face was burning with heat. I had the world’s most pathetic poker face. I knew he must have seen the Bible. He must have known that I’d outlined those passages. All I wanted was for him to acknowledge that I knew. To say something, so I wouldn’t have to.

But he said absolutely nothing. He was content to let me twist in the wind. He was happy not to confess, or maybe he didn’t care to, as if I didn’t matter enough to him.

“Cool,” he said, starting to pick up his pace. “See you later?”

“Yeah.”

Then he rounded the corner and disappeared.

I kicked a locker, clenching my fists so tightly that my fingernails dug into the skin of my palms, making them bleed. When I went to my class—ten minutes late, but who cared?—I sent a text to Kane, as my teacher was writing out my detention slip: Did Luisa say anything to you?

He texted back: No

I’d had enough time to send one more text as my teacher finished writing. I held the phone under my desk and jabbed: Are you going to tell her you know?

As I walked to detention, I got the message from him: No

I stood there in the deserted hallway, my thumbs hovering over the keypad. I felt desperate, out of control, a volcano ready to blow its top off, but I didn’t know what would make me feel better. Well, I did know, but I knew that wasn’t possible. And it killed me.

A second later, he came back with: I have to lift after school. Meet me outside the gym after? Like 6?

It was a Friday. I knew spring ball would be starting, and Kane would be working off the past couple months of heavy partying and his penchant for eating an entire pizza by himself. Not that Kane ever showed a hint of imperfection. At least he had something to keep his mind off his cheating girlfriend. I’d given up dance for my junior year, never having made it to soloist, so I had absolutely nothing to occupy the time.

When six o’clock rolled around, the school was deserted. I sat on the floor of the hallway outside the locker room. I’d been there for the past hour. I told myself I’d tackle my geometry homework, but I hadn’t cracked the book. I simply sat there, cross-legged, back against the wall, replaying every moment I’d had with Declan until I was beyond madness.

When Kane finally opened the door and came out, carrying the scent of soap from his recent shower, my eyes were so swollen from crying that I couldn’t even see him.

“Wow,” he said, slinking down next to me. “Drama much?”