I should have known Julian was planning something dangerous when I found him limping dramatically across the main courtyard at exactly 3:47 PM, right when classes let out and maximum foot traffic ensured the largest possible audience for whatever performance he was staging.
“Isabella!” His voice carried across the space with theatrical distress. “Thank God you’re here. I seem to have done something unfortunate to my ankle.”
He was leaning heavily against the fountain in the center of the courtyard, his burgundy blazer perfectly positioned to catch the afternoon light and his dark hair artfully tousled as if he’d been running. Everything about the scene looked authentic except for the satisfied gleam in his hazel eyes.
“What happened?” I approached cautiously, recognizing the signs of Ju
