MARISSA
I couldn't get over Justine's bizarreness.
She had cornered me an hour ago, claiming she felt a bond with me.
What f*****g bond?
I slammed my palm onto my desk. My head was on fire.
“Okay, Marissa, think,” I muttered, forcing myself to breathe. “Logic. Facts.”
Fact one: I was straight. As a ruler. As a Euclidean line. My disastrous dating history with men was proof enough. So Justine, however charming or intense, feels a ‘bond’ with me? Impossible. Unless ‘bonds’ were one-sided delusions.
New search: “One-sided mate bond.”
A slew of online posts popped up. I skimmed a few. They were mostly teenagers convinced their brooding history teacher was their destined mate.
Useless.
Nothing about this made sense. I felt a bond with my mate, who was pretending I was just the coffee-
