Ivy, back then...
I brushed a lock of chestnut hair behind my ear, the memory of the confrontation with Aidan replaying in my mind. I had pushed him away, expecting his usual snarl, but instead, there was this flash of something raw and pained in his intense blue eyes that caught me off guard.
It lingered, that look, haunting me. Why did it bother me so much to see Aidan Blackwood, of all people, hurt?
The chime of the classroom bell snapped me back to the present. I shuffled my textbooks, trying to focus on the equations Mr. Kipler scrawled on the board, but my mind wandered.
Usually, Aidan would have made some snide remark by now, his voice dripping with disdain from somewhere behind me. But today, there was nothing—just the scratch of pencils and the occasional cough breaking the silence.
