Elena’s POV

By Wednesday morning, I am running on three hours of sleep, pure caffeine, and the deep belief that Blake Thorton is the worst thing to ever happen to Prescott High.

Not wars.

Not exams.

Not cafeteria food.

Blake Thorton.

I walk into school already tense, shoulders tight, jaw clenched, telling myself I am not going to engage today. I am not going to look at him. I am not going to react. I am not going to give him what he wants.

This plan lasts exactly twelve seconds.

I reach my ...