Camilla
I was still fuming when I woke up the next morning. If I had one overall talent at that time, it was holding a grudge. I liked to chalk it up to my fiery, Irish genes and artistic temperament. Most people just thought I was a bit of a b***h.
My teeth were still gritting as I made breakfast. Just one serving all for me. Just to drive the point home to Aden, that he couldn’t jerk me around and get away with it. If he wanted any more of my practically perfect in every way cinnamon French toast, he would just have to lump it.
Filled up with the best of my culinary abilities, I put on the least attractive outfit I could find—hot pink yoga pants with a mint green hoodie and brown crocs. I had no one to impress anymore and figured I might as well be comfortable. It wasn’t like Ryan was
