The bell rings, and I’m already late. Again. My boots echo down the empty hallway, past lockers plastered with lacrosse posters and passive-aggressive student council flyers. Then I see him—Easton Beaumont, leaning against my classroom door like he owns the damn building.\n\n"You’re in my way," I say, gripping my notebook like a shield.\n\nHe smirks, slow and infuriating. "Funny. I was just thinking the same thing about you."\n\nI freeze. That voice. That smirk. I haven’t seen him since the lake house party. Since the bedroom. Since the way he whispered my name like he’d been saying it in his dreams.\n\n"We need to talk," he says, stepping closer.\n\n"We have nothing to say."\n\n"Then why did you post that pic of us last night?"\n\nI blink. "What pic?"\n\nHe pulls out his phone. A blurry shot of us leaving the party together, arms around each other, lips dangerously close. Posted to the school’s gossip page.\n\nSomeone’s setting us up. And if we don’t act fast, the lie will become the truth.