approaching the point of an explosion the more Nikolai keeps talking, or even existing, near her. Not getting a reply, my friend, who’ll soon lose those friendship privileges, slides closer to Cecily. “Your name is Cecilia, right?” The red has slowly disappeared from her face, but she’s turned cold both in expression and voice. “Cecily.” “Tomayto, tomahto.” He stares at her funnily. “You’re close with Lotus Flower, aren’t you? You have this whole shared love of unicorns, cakes, and saving animals.” “Lotus what?” “Brandon,” he says as if the correlation is a given.
