End Game
I asked, and he nodded.
I lifted my head a little, interest piqued despite myself.
“Yeah?” I said. “How old?”
"Eighteen. I think."Ellie said.
“Eighteen,” I repeated, nodding slowly. “That’s… cool.”
I took a sip of my drink, eyes drifting back toward the shoreline. For some reason, a strange prickle ran up my spine—one of those vague, unexplainable feelings that usually meant nothing but refused to go away.
I shrugged it off anyway and jumped in the new sudden conversation about how Zichen had a crush on Mrs. Winthrop—the new substitute teacher.
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