That night's rain was a thunderstorm. The pounding of the raindrops against the ground and the windows did not help to ease the tension of the headache that had formed earlier before Rosalie got into bed. She was very embarrassed about kissing Dante, but that was only when she woke up in the morning and remembered it all like she was being controlled by something deep inside her.
The notion of kissing another man who was not Creed was surreal. How was she to face him the next time she saw him? The only way she was able to get out of bed the next morning was by convincing herself over and over that she was not the one who kissed Dante, but rather she was compelled to do so by some unknown force deep inside of her.
It rained nonstop last night nor did it stop that morning. Rosalie was so c
