Marco POV
She said it like she was telling me the weather.
Thiago asked me to prom.
Could've been nothing. Should've been nothing.
But it stuck. Crawled under my skin, sat there, digging.
I'm in my room now, sitting on the edge of the bed, lights low, door shut. The house is quiet, too quiet. I've got a drink beside me but I'm not touching it. My hands won't stay still.
She told me she said no - soft, almost shy, like she didn't want to upset me. But I keep hearing it anyway. The name. The way her lips moved when she said it.
And then I start seeing her in my head.
The sound she makes when she says Master in that breathless way, voice catching at the back of her throat. The way she'd curl into my chest after, skin warm against mine, smelling like sweat and her shampoo. That stupid
