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I'm breathless. Just before I walk into the classroom, I glance over my shoulder.Lo's eyes are deep and piercing. I feel the weight of them hovering, watching. Holding me motionless as time, too, stands still.I force myself to peel my gaze away from his compelling stare, making my feet obey weak commands to enter the classroom… one in front of the other, like a drone.Something hot pulses across the back of my neck, racing across my body, and I can't even think.It's not Ehmora who will be the death of me. It's this boy.

Waterfell

детская проза

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Oceanborn

Без серии

Amalie Howard