“Under different circumstances, she might’ve been the perfect match.” “Under different circumstances …” The pause in his words carried a laborious heartbeat that smothered my own, as I watched the slightest smile play on his lips. A beat of hesitation. “I might’ve pursued you.” A nervous rush of breath escaped me. I gripped the strap of my bookbag in some faulty attempt to hold my composure, and swallowed past the dryness in my throat. “And I might’ve let you.” The bus rolled to a stop, absolutely killing the moment. If it counted as a moment. “Goodnight, Professor.” “Good night, Miss
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