ROXETTEThe coffee was already soaking through my white crop top, cold and sticky against my skin, when Thea grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the nearest girls’ bathroom.“Come on,” she said quickly, her voice soft but urgent. “Let’s get you cleaned up before it sets in.”I let her lead me, legs moving on autopilot while my mind spun. The hallway felt longer than usual, every pair of eyes burning into me like hot irons. Whispers followed us like smoke. I kept my arms crossed tightly over my chest, trying to hide the worst of the stain, but the wet fabric clung to me anyway, outlining every curve in the most humiliating way.The bathroom door swung shut behind us with a heavy click. Thea locked it for good measure and immediately turned on the faucet. She grabbed a handful of paper towels, soaked them, and started dabbing at the huge brown splotch across my front.“It’s so messy,” she muttered, frowning in concentration. “Iced coffee is the worst. The sugar makes it stick. Hold stil
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