Morning came like a slap in the face.
The sunlight didn’t gently pour in—it shoved its way through my curtains, bold and blinding and way too loud for the mood I was in. My whole body ached, a raw throb under my skin from the night before. You’d think sniffing a girl’s pajama top wouldn’t feel like being torn apart and stitched back together, but that’s the thing about Camila.
She ruined me in ways I didn’t even have names for yet.
I sat up in bed, hair a mess, mouth dry, heart still stubbornly aching like I’d been through a war.
I felt like s**t.
The same kind of s**t you feel after a really vivid dream you didn’t want to wake up from. The kind where you had her—arms wrapped around her, her head on your chest, her fingers twisted in your shirt—and then the alarm goes off and you’re b
