Checked Out: Part 2
She thinks this is about a chair. She thinks it is about a specific patch of ruby velvet and a schedule that never wavers. She’s wrong. I’ve spent weeks watching her from the margins, memorizing the way she bristles when I’m in her space and the way she smells like vanilla and sharp morning air. Now that I have her planner—and her name—the silent war is over. It’s time to see if I can finally make her lose her place on the page. Part II: Remy I walk out into the rain, not even bothering to pull up my hood. I am grinning like an idiot, and the cold water hitting my face is the only thing keeping me from laughing out loud—or maybe from groaning. My chest feels tight, and my blood is humming in a way that coffee could never justify. Getting a rise out of Juniper is easily the highlight of my week. It’s too easy, honestly. She walks into The Dusty Spine like she’s on a mission to organize the very atoms in the room, her spine so straight I sometimes wonder if it would snap if I actu...
