(Michelle Lui's POV)
The rest of my class passed in a blur.
I absorbed everything like muscle memory — because it was muscle memory — but none of it stuck long enough to override the image of Steven leaning against the door earlier, waiting for my answer like it actually mattered.
By the time class ended, my notes were neat, my brain was full…
…and my heart was a tiny, fluttery mess.
I stepped out into the hallway with my bag slung over my shoulder, exhaling slowly.
Get it together, Michelle.
It's not even Saturday yet.
As I made my way toward the courtyard, a familiar voice called out:
"Michelle! Wait!"
Camille hurried toward me, ponytail swinging, cheeks flushed from walking too fast.
I smiled. "Hey, what's up?"
She grinned — wide, starry-eyed, and very Camille — then lowered her voice conspiratorially.
"So, um… was that seriously Steven Sy I saw walking you to class earlier?"
I choked on my own spit.
"Camille—"
