I turn to my side with a deep sigh. There’s something wrong with me, I’m sure of it. Maybe prison did more damage than I thought it did. How else can I explain this obsession over Zoey? A month ago, I didn’t know she existed. When I met her, I flirted just for fun. But somewhere between our first meeting and Thanksgiving—three f*****g days—she got under my skin somehow. But even when I f****d her, I was still hell bent on moving on afterwards because that’s what I do. Yet, I didn’t. I kept stringing her along, knowing we could never be a thing.
That’s f****d up. I’m f****d up. I shouldn’t have come here.
I only get a few hours of sleep before morning arrives. I get dressed and enter the hallway as Asher smashes his phone against the wall.
“The f**k, dude?”
He turns to me, running his f
