Finding Tara wasn’t as simple as walking into a hallway and spotting her relaxing against a locker with her fake smile and overprocessed hair.
If anything, the damn girl was like smoke—annoying, suffocating, and impossible to hold on to unless you trapped it in a room.
Problem was, she wasn’t in any room I knew.
I started with the usual spots: the quad where the cheer squad liked to parade themselves during breaks, the east wing corridor where the vending machines never worked but made a great spot to gossip, and the library—though I knew Tara’s relationship with books began and ended with looking at the covers for i********: aesthetics.
Nothing.
The day had begun cooling down, shadows stretching longer across campus, but my temper wasn’t cooling with it. My jaw had been locked since
