Elena.

I was a liar. But not a very good one. My parents always said I had crocodile tears because I could cry on command, all dramatic and teary-eyed. It came in handy when I wanted to stir up trouble with Zayn.

This time, though, most of my tears were real.

I couldn’t switch classes— not at the end of the year. That was an empty threat. There was no way I wouldn’t see him again, especially since we were neighbors. All I could do now was lay in bed and stare at the ceiling for hours on end.

By Monday, I was feeling off. My parents had just gotten...