The campus was slowly draining of its usual chaos. Students flooded out in groups, some yelling across the parking lot, others hugging goodbye like they'd survived something massive—
I stood near the front entrance, phone in hand, eyes scanning the lot like I was waiting for someone I wasn't even sure would show up.
No sign of Saint.
I checked my phone again and shot her a quick text:
Hey, where you at?
Nothing.
I waited a few seconds, then called. Straight to voicemail. I stared at the screen, the familiar bubble of irritation rising in my chest—but I let it pass. Not even mad. Just… tired. Tired of always having to wonder what version of the day I was walking into.
I slipped my phone back into my pocket and adjusted the strap on my bag. The sun was low, golden, but heavy. The kind of heat that made your skin feel like it was being pressed into.
