Tyler

Second half of classes was war.

And I tried. I really tried to keep my head straight—give the classes my undivided attention.

But somehow my mind kept drifting, my brows drawn together. And I couldn’t count how many times I stopped myself from wondering how Sydney was doing back there.

“No one?” the teacher’s voice cut through. “Not even you, Sinclair?”

I heard it, but my brain didn’t register it at first.

“Sinclair!” The voice was sharper now.

I lifted my head, suddenly aware of my surroundings—eyes had turned my way, staring expectantly at me.

But the teacher’s was the most piercing. That frown etched across her wrinkled face...