Rhea
The punching bag swung violently across the small training area before snapping back toward me.
I drove my fist into it again. Sweat dripping from my forehead as I followed it with a spinning kick, sending the bag flying backward.
I was practically punching the bag because my mind refused to stay still. Every time I stopped moving, last night came crashing back.
The embarrassment I felt waking up in Ryan's bed while he'd spent the night sleeping in the chair.
What stucked me more were the memories.
Running around the hallway like a complete i***t. Calling him a potato. Hitting my head against his wardrobe. Throwing up.
I groaned and landed another hard punch.
"Fuck..."
I actually threw up on him. Of all people. Ryan.
I wanted the ground to split open and swallow me whole.
