Warmth floods my chest at that.
Brayden shoots her a look before giving me a gentle smile. "You okay?"
I scoot against the headboard and pull up my knees to my chest, shaking my head. "No, but I will be."
He wasn't the first guy to break my heart, and he certainly wouldn't be the last. Just like with Liam, I'll move on from this. It's just going to take me a little while longer.
No, Sawyer. It's going to take you a lot longer.
I know. But I'll survive.
Maybe I'm some kind of a masochist. It wasn't enough that one guy broke my heart. I had to go and let another one crush it. I didn't even wait long.
"Has he come to school yet?" I find myself asking.
Despite what he did, I still want to know if he's okay.
"Yeah," Quinn nods. "He came in yesterday. He was even more broody and grumpier than usual. Now, it makes sense."
I can almost see it. The deep frown on his handsome face like he's angry at the world. The way he stalks down the halls that warns everyone not to mess with him.
Longing grips my chest, making my eyes burn with tears. And here I thought I was already done crying. Parker, you are such a jerk.
The next thing I know, Quinn and Brayden are wrapping their arms around me, providing comfort and helping ease the pain the best way they can.
I'm glad that they're here, but as pathetic and ungrateful as it sounds, their comfort isn't what my heart badly aches for.
*******
"I've read what you sent me."
My heart practically stops as I stare at Ms. Langham across the teacher's desk, waiting with bated breath for her judgement.
Over a week ago, I emailed her my admissions essay and writing portfolio. A lot has happened since, so I forgot all about it, until she reminded me when she asked me to stay behind. Which is probably a good thing, considering my stomach is a tight ball of nerves right now. It's not a good feeling to have.
"So, what's the verdict?" I nervously prod, holding my books to my chest in a tight grip.
"Well, I think they're great. Very well-written. You did a good job, Sawyer," she replies, smiling at me.
Ms. Langham thinks they're great. My English teacher actually likes my writing.
A huge grin breaks out of my face. "Really?"
"Yes, I'm sure," she chuckles. Then adjusts her glasses on her nose. "Anyway, I took the liberty to make some edits, I hope you don't mind."
"Oh, not at all." Like I'd complain about that. The fact that she bothered to edit my work, when she didn't even have to, means a lot.
"Your dad must be really proud of you."
I wince. "Um, he actually doesn't know."
Her brows shoot up in surprise. "That you write?"
"Yes."
"May I know why?" she gently asks.
I lift my shoulders. "Because I'm scared he won't like them? I mean, he's a bestselling author. Surely, his standards are high."
Ms. Langham clasps her hands on top of her desk and leans forward. "I can't say I know your father very well. But I usually see him during book signings, where we often sit next to each other, and well, he always strikes me as an author who sees beauty in every written word. Someone who recognizes the amount of work and passion a writer puts into their writing." She gives an encouraging smile. "Don't be afraid to talk to him. Trust me, he'll be as impressed as I am."
A rush of warmth shoots through my chest. Coming from Ms. Langham, those words mean a lot. They inspire me to continue writing and improve my craft.
But then, something else registers. What did she mean when she said she sits by Dad during signings? The only author I know who does is E.L. Smith, and that's only because he jokingly refers to her as his "tablemate." So how—
My eyes pop wide when realization hits me. "You're E.L. Smith!"
She lets out a chuckle. "In the flesh."
"Oh, wow," I breathe. "I can't believe one of my favorite authors is actually my English teacher." How did I not know this? I mean, if you think about it, it's actually pretty obvious. 'E' stands for Emilia and 'L' stands for Langham. A frown pulls at my brows. "Where did you get 'Smith' from?
She tucks a tendril of copper-red hair behind her ear. "It's my mom's maiden name."
I really should've known better.
Well, I guess because I never really cared about stalking my favorite authors on social media. And although I do follow their Facebook pages, I don't check them often. Not to mention, E.L. Smith never posts personal pictures on her page. Which is probably why I never caught on to the fact that she's right here in Holy Oaks.
"It really is a small world," I whisper in awe, still unable to wrap my head around it.
"Indeed it is." She smiles before turning serious. "Think about what I said okay? Don't keep it a secret for long."
I really will.
A grateful smile warms my face. "Thank you, Ms. Langham. Seriously."
"Now, go on and get to class. You've missed a few days. You have a lot to catch up on," she says, her voice tinged with slight disapproval.
It's true. I did. All because of a boy. The boy I've been trying to avoid the whole day. It's hard, considering we share first period and sit next to each other in that class.
Well, sat. I asked to switch places with Mitch Gibson who, I happen to know, have a huge crush on him. I felt his eyes burning my back the whole time, but I didn't dare look back, refusing to meet his gaze, pretending it didn't affect me.
That was just a small reprieve though. I still have to deal with seeing him in the hallways.
Which is why, when I step out into the hall moments later, I make sure
