November blustered onto campus with winter in the wind. Halloween night had been chilly, but the first week of November was downright frigid. Snow dusted the ground as Ava and I walked the now-familiar path to our potions class. We were bundled up in cozy coats over our uniforms with mittens on our hands. And we’d traded our knee socks for fleece tights.
I still felt dizzy from Halloween night. The drinks, the drama, the . . . orgasm. Evren and I had kept our distance the last week—as was our way. Both of us had a healthy backlog of trust issues, and every moment of vulnerability meant a thousand more moments of distance, defenses and avoiding each other.
Or at least that was how I read into his detachment. Because it was exactly what mine meant.
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