23
Emma
“You did what?” Kendall’s voice jumps an octave as she stares at me, her half-eaten croissant clutched in her hand.
“I told him to leave,” I repeat, rubbing my temples as the headache from hell worsens.
I barely slept after Marcus left last night—my second sleepless night this week—and though I’ve had enough caffeine to wake a horse this morning, my skull feels like it’s being squeezed in a vise. Given that, I probably shouldn’t have gone to Kendall’s apartment for breakfast, but I needed someone other than my cats to talk to.
“Okay, back up.” Kendall drops the croissant onto her napkin and swivels her bar stool to face me fully. “Let’s go through this again. He broke down your door to save you after you tripped over your cat, and you guys made out while you were almost naked.
