Monday morning, I'm awake at five AM.
I didn't sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I was back in the library. Thunder. Darkness. His lips on mine. The way the world went quiet for exactly seven seconds before sound came rushing back.
I've replayed it so many times it's starting to feel like something I imagined.
Except I can still taste him. Still feel the ghost of his hands in my hair.
At six, I give up on sleep and take a shower. Stand under water that's too hot and try to figure out what happens now. Does Friday change everything? Does he regret it? Will he pretend it never happened?
Rich boys kiss scholarship girls all the time. It doesn't mean anything. It's just experimentation. Slumming. Whatever they call it.
By seven, I've convinced myself he won't be at my locker.
By seven-thirty, I'm on the bus counting stops to keep my anxiety from eating me alive.
By eight, I'm walking through the gates of Riverside Academy with my heart in my throat.
***
He's waiting at my locker.
Aurelio Santoro, leaning against locker two-forty-seven like he belongs there, holding two coffee cups, looking like he walked out of some catalog for boys who don't know they're devastating.
Half the girls in the hallway are staring at him. The other half are staring at me, trying to figure out why he's at my locker instead of his usual spot near the senior commons.
Sterling Hayes is frozen by the water fountain, watching us with an expression I can't read.
I force my feet to keep moving. Forty-three steps from the entrance to my locker. I counted freshman year. I count now.
When I reach him, he straightens up. Smiles.
That smile should be illegal.
"Hey," he says.
"Hey."
Real smooth, Cassia. Years of reading literature and that's what you come up with.
He holds out one of the coffee cups. "Coffee. With cinnamon."
Our fingers brush when I take it. Electricity shoots up my arm.
"Thank you," I manage.
"You look beautiful."
Heat floods my face. "I look tired. I didn't sleep."
"Me neither." His eyes hold mine. "I was too busy thinking about Friday."
Students are definitely staring now. I can feel their eyes like physical weight. Can hear the whispers starting.
*Is that Cassia Monroe?*
*With Aurelio Santoro?*
*Since when—*
"So," he says.
"So," I echo.
We're both terrible at this.
He shifts his coffee to his other hand. Reaches for mine. Threads his fingers through mine like it's the most natural thing in the world.
The hallway gets quieter. Or maybe my heart is so loud I can't hear anything else.
"Is this okay?" he asks quietly.
I look at our hands. At the way his fingers fit between mine. At the way this simple gesture feels like jumping off a cliff into water I can't see the bottom of.
Every logical part of my brain screams warnings. This won't work. You're from different worlds. His family will never accept you. You're going to get hurt.
But I squeeze his hand anyway.
"Yeah," I whisper. "This is okay."
***
We walk to AP Lit like that. Hand in hand. While everyone stares.
Sterling's face goes tight when we pass her. She doesn't say anything, just watches with eyes that promise this isn't over.
Poet catches my eye from across the hall. Her expression clearly says *we need to talk immediately* but she's grinning.
When we reach Ms. Okonkwo's classroom, Aurelio doesn't immediately let go. Instead, he stops just outside the door.
"Cassia."
"Yeah?"
"I know this is fast. I know we should probably talk about what Friday meant. About what this is." He gestures between us. "But I just—I really like you. And I want to see where this goes. If you do too."
My heart is doing something complicated and impossible in my chest.
Every book I've read about girls like me and boys like him ends badly. The rich boy always goes back to his world eventually. The poor girl always ends up heartbroken.
But looking at him now—at the hope in his grey eyes, at the way he's holding my hand like he's afraid I'll disappear—I can't make myself care about the ending.
Not yet.
"I do too," I say.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
His smile could power the entire eastern seaboard.
He squeezes my hand once. Then, because we're standing in the doorway and students are filing past us and Ms. Okonkwo is probably watching, he lets go.
But not before his thumb brushes across my knuckles. Not before his eyes promise this isn't over.
***
Ms. Okonkwo looks up when we walk in together. She's young for a teacher—late twenties, natural hair styled in an elaborate updo, wearing a dress with a Toni Morrison quote printed on it.
Her eyes flick from me to Aurelio to our just-released hands. A small smile plays at the corners of her mouth.
"Ah, the Romeo and Juliet of forbidden love analysis," she says. "How's the project coming?"
"Good," Aurelio says, sliding into his seat behind mine.
"Very good," I add, sitting down.
Ms. Okonkwo's smile gets wider. "I'm sure it is."
The rest of the class files in. Sterling comes in last, deliberately choosing a seat as far from us as possible. She doesn't look at Aurelio. Doesn't look at me. Just stares straight ahead with her jaw tight.
I feel a small twist of guilt. They dated freshman year. Broke up "amicably" according to school gossip. But looking at her face now, I'm not sure how amicable it really was.
Class starts. Ms. Okonkwo begins talking about *Wuthering Heights*. About Catherine and Heathcliff. About toxic love and obsession and the difference between passion and destruction.
"The question we need to ask," she says, pacing at the front of the room, "is whether their love is actually love, or whether it's obsession. Whether it's romantic, or whether it's destructive. What do you think?"
Several hands go up. Sterling's is one of them.
Ms. Okonkwo calls on her.
Sterling stands. Because of course she does. Standing makes you look more confident, more important.
"I think some loves are destined to fail," Sterling says, her voice clear and cold. "Some people are too different. From too different worlds. Catherine and Heathcliff fail because they refuse to accept reality. She marries Edgar because he's suitable. Because he makes sense."
She's looking right at me when she says it.
The message is clear: *You and Aurelio are going to fail. You're too different. He'll realize it eventually.*
My stomach twists. But before I can spiral, Ms. Okonkwo says, "Interesting interpretation. Anyone else?"
My hand goes up before I can stop it.
"Cassia?"
I stand too. If Sterling can make speeches, so can I.
"I think it's not about whether they're from different worlds," I say, finding my words as I go. "It's about whether they're willing to build a new world together. Catherine fails because she isn't brave enough. She chooses safety over love. She chooses what society expects over what her heart wants."
I can feel Aurelio's eyes on my back. Can feel the weight of the entire class watching.
"So you're saying love can transcend class differences?" Ms. Okonkwo asks. "Family expectations? Social pressure?"
"I'm saying it can try."
"And if it fails?"
I think about that. About Friday. About right now. About how this whole thing with Aurelio could blow up spectacularly in my face.
"Then at least you tried," I say quietly. "At least you were brave enough to choose what you wanted instead of what was expected."
Ms. Okonkwo smiles. Really smiles. "Well said, Cassia."
I sit down. My hands are shaking.
Behind me, I feel Aurelio's foot tap against my chair leg twice. Our secret code. The one that means *I'm here. I agree. You're not alone.*
***
After class, Poet corners me at my locker.
"Spill," she demands. "Now. Everything."
Poet Davis has been my best friend since freshman year. She's loud where I'm quiet, confident where I'm unsure. She wears a shirt that says "Nevertheless, She Persisted" and has box braids with gold cuffs.
"There's nothing to spill," I lie.
"Girl." She crosses her arms. "He was holding your hand in the hallway. Half the school is talking about it. Sterling Hayes looks like she wants to commit murder. And you're telling me there's nothing to spill?"
I close my locker. Look at her. Give up on lying.
"He kissed me. Friday. In the library."
Poet's eyes go wide. Then she actually squeals.
"FINALLY!" She grabs my arm. "Oh my God, finally! I've been watching you two make eyes at each other for a month. It was painful."
"We weren't—"
"You absolutely were. So what now? Are you together?"
"I think so? We didn't exactly define it, but—"
"Holding hands in public is definitely defining it." Her grin is huge. "Cass, this is amazing!"
But then her expression shifts. Gets more serious.
"But also," she says quietly, "you know this is going to be complicated, right?"
"I know."
"Like, really complicated. Aurelio Santoro? His family is Boston royalty. And you're—"
"The scholarship girl from Roxbury. I know, Poet."
She softens. "I'm not trying to be a buzzkill. I just don't want you to get hurt."
"Too late," I admit. "I'm already in."
"I know you are. I can see it on your face." She sighs. "Okay. If you're doing this, I support you. But Cassia, promise me something?"
"What?"
"Don't lose yourself in this. If his family or his friends make you feel like you're not good enough, remember that you are. You're brilliant and you deserve someone who sees that."
My throat gets tight. "I promise."
She pulls me into a hug right there in the hallway.
When we pull apart, I see Aurelio down the hall. Watching. Smiling.
He raises his coffee cup in a small salute.
I raise mine back.
And for the first time since Friday, I let myself believe this might actually work.
Even though every logical part of me knows better.
Even though Sterling's words are still echoing in my head.
Even though I'm terrified of what happens when reality sets in.
For now, I'm just going to count my steps and drink my coffee with cinnamon and pretend that love is enough.
Even though I'm pretty sure it's not.