The next morning, Skye sits in her history class, her notebook open but her pen barely moving. She stares at the page, pretending to take notes while her mind races with last night’s text from the unknown number. 

“Knox may love women, but I own his heart.” It has to be Laurel. Who else? Skye glances sideways at Maya, who’s sitting next to her, doodling in the margins of her own notes unaware of Skye’s worries. 

Maya catches her eye and whispers, “You sure you’re okay? You look ...