I didn't have the mental capacity to antagonize Fynn for most of the day. I was exhausted from the lack of sleep.
The way my dreams had layered scenes from my childhood over things I'd seen here, my mind reeled with confusion. I had one dream in particular, just snippets of a scene. I was a child again, stalking through the woods, playing hide and seek. My grandmother walked along a line of trees, mirroring my every move as I walked. It seemed to be the dream that bothered me most, tugging at some memory or idea that I couldn't unbury just yet.
The memory of the way that Fynn had kissed me, the way his hands had felt touching me in that rented room was making my mind race and my pulse thrum in my veins. I had hoped that the idea of it would start to wear and tarnish the longer we were on
