The afternoon sun sat low over campus when my phone buzzed with Aurora's name.
hey milk boy. addison and i are free tonight. come to my place at 7. wear something nice. addison says if you wear that grey henley again she'll burn it
I read the message crossing the quad, muscles protesting from Vale's morning session and Tsukishima's sparring drills. Salt and cut grass rode the breeze. Someone was getting destroyed by Garrett on the north field. Standard academy soundtrack. Standard afternoon.
Nothing standard about tonight.
Three weeks of Aurora's subtext had built to this. Neon letters ten feet tall. Addison circling since Ventura. Aurora positioning us like chess pieces. The shopping trip. The lingerie store. Every convenient exit that left me alone with her best friend. Midnight texts from Addison that ran too long and too personal for someone treating me as her friend's boyfriend.
