“Kyra, I'm sorry. I'm so f*****g high on pills right now,” he says, running his hands through his hair. “You need to leave. Now.”
“Wh - what? Why?” I’m still lost in the euphoria of his kiss, of feeling him so hard against me, my mind cloudy and humming, still wanting more of whatever just happened. I want a total head-on collision.
“Please. Go.” He points to the door like I’m some kind of squatter who wandered into his house.
“Tor...” I touch his arm, but he yanks away from me.
“Kyra, you have to go. I mean it. I can’t be around you when I’m high as a f*****g kite. I don’t know what the hell you’re doing to me.”
I stand on wobbly legs, completely engulfed in confusion. “I’m sorry...” I stammer. “What about dinner?”
I’m in a daze as he walks with me to the kitchen, where he scoops up
