Alex looked between Laz and Frida, his expression shifting from shock to remorse.
It was as though he couldn't believe what he had just done.
He stood up, his voice shaky. "Frida, I-I..."
Laz stepped forward, blocking his path with a firm glare. "No, you don't get that chance," he said sharply, grabbing Frida's hand and slinging her backpack over his shoulder.
The classroom erupted in hushed whispers.
"Did he just...?"
"Isn't he the top student of our year?" one girl murmured from the back.
"I always knew he was a douche," another said.
"Guys like that are disgusting," a third added, her voice dripping with disdain.
As Laz and Frida left the classroom, the tension lingered in the air.
The lights in the hallway flickered above them, casting fleeting shadows on the walls. Frida's gaze lingered on Laz's back as he walked ahead, his figure steady and sure.
What if he hadn't come?
The thought made her shiver.
How was he so on time?
How had he known she would be here?
