*Roanne’s POV*
I felt the chill of the early morning air nip at my skin as I made my way across the dew-kissed campus, textbooks clutched against my chest. The ancient oaks stood as silent sentinels, watching the throng of students buzzing with the electric pulse of a new day. My thoughts were a tangled web of formulas and essay prompts when Lizzie's voice cut through the ambient chatter like a violin string pulled taut.
"Roanne! Wait up!" she called out, breathless.
I turned to find her, a cascade of auburn hair and hurried apologies, weaving through the crowd. "Sorry, I'm late," Lizzie panted, coming to a stop beside me, her cheeks flushed from more than just exertion.
"Where were you last night?" I asked, my curiosity sharpening into focus. Lizzie always had an anchor in punctuality—and yesterday, she was missing at the weekly club meeting.
She bit her lip, a rose blooming across her face. "I… went out with someone."