The last place I wanted to be at 3 PM was Hartwell Academy's library. Specifically, the exact library nook where one Sabrina Valentine had requested my presence. But there I was anyway, walking past shelves of books that cost more than my monthly grocery budget, carrying a copy of The Count of Monte Cristo that I definitely didn't own.
I'd bought it during lunch break, rushing to the school bookstore and paying with actual cash. Nineteen dollars and change I couldn't really spare, but the alternative was showing up empty-handed to meet the girl who might have kissed me on the steps of her mansion last night. Or might not have. The uncertainty was killing me.
"This is stupid," I muttered to myself as I rounded the corner to the secluded reading area tucked into the library's bay window. "Just ask her directly if she—"
I stopped short. Sabrina was already there, curled up in the massive leather beanbag chair like a cat who'd found the perfect sunbeam.
