Betty kept her focus on her studies. She’ll just have to endure all this drama and when summer vacation comes, she’ll go back to her old house, reminisce about her parents memories. .
This was her strategy now: avoidance. If she kept moving, kept busy, she wouldn’t have to think about Marcus, Brent or anything.
She opened her laptop to distract a little. But before she could even type a single word, a shadow fell across her table.
"Running again, Betty?"
Her stomach flipped. She didn’t have to look up to know who it was. Marcus’s voice carried that familiar blend of amusement and challenge, the kind that made her want to both punch him and… not punch him.
"I’m not running," she snapped, finally looking up to glare at him.
He smirked, slidding into the chair across from her without waiting for an invitation. His long legs stretching out like he owned the place. "Could’ve fooled me."
"We said it didn’t mean anything."
His smirk faded as he leaned forward, "You said that. I didn’t." His dark eyes pinned her in place.
"You’re—just—"
"What? Bad for you?"
Her lips parted, but no sound came out.
Marcus’s eyes narrowed, and he tilted his head slightly, studying her like he was trying to read the thoughts she wasn’t saying. "I just can’t stop thinking about you."
His words sent a flush of heat to her cheeks. She stood abruptly, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. She grabbed her bag and stormed off the library, ignoring the curious glances from the other students.
Marcus’s low chuckle followed her out, echoing in her ears. She hated how it sounded—amused, knowing, and far too close for comfort.