The engine cut out in the driveway, and I peeled myself off Mordred's back, legs unsteady from the ride and the adrenaline still buzzing in my veins.
The house loomed quiet and dim, a far cry from the chaos of campus. I handed him the helmet, avoiding his eyes.
"You've been silent the whole way," he said, voice low as we stepped inside.
He flicked on the lights and tossed his keys on the counter. "What happened?" he turned to face me.
I dropped my bag by the door and sank onto the couch, rubbing my temples.The photo from Anonymous burned in my pocket—I'd deleted it, but the chill still lingered.
"Everything…." I muttered, in a low tone.
"...Maddox cornered me at my locker, spewing crap about us shacking up.Made a whole scene."
"Damn, that bastard. I knew he would do that." He yelled, with his fits clenched.
"Offcourse he would, we both knew. But that wasn't even the concerning part." I replied, trying to gather courage.
