First message
I pull out my phone, answering a call. Once I hang up the phone, I send a text message to Nadia to tell her I’m standing outside of her classroom, waiting. I pocket my phone, leaning against the lockers with my feet crossed at the ankles. A few minutes pass and Nadia walks out of class, last behind the rest of the students, walking to me when she sees me. Ready? I ruffle her hair, smirking at the shocked gasp that escapes her lips before resting my arm over her shoulders, and lead her away.