Zoe's POV
I told myself I would talk to Brandon in the morning.
I barely slept that night. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his face by the pool—distant and guarded, like there was a door behind his eyes that had quietly shut. I replayed every possible reason for it. Was he tired? Stressed? Maybe from all the rehearsals. Or worse: regretting us.
The thought made my stomach twist.
By the time morning came, I had rehearsed at least five different ways to approach him: calm, understanding, playful, direct, and vulnerable. I would catch him before school, pull him aside, and ask him what was wrong. Simple.
Except it didn't go as I planned.
I stepped out onto the driveway just as his truck rolled in. The early sun hit the windshield, making it impossible to see his expression at first. My heart started pounding anyway.
