The air in Damian’s room still felt charged when I finally gathered the courage to stand. My shoulder throbbed softly beneath the bandage he’d just wrapped, and though the antiseptic had dried, the warmth of his touch hadn’t.
I told myself to breathe. To move. To stop replaying his last words, the way his voice had dipped when he said it suits you more.
I reached for my bag and slung it over my shoulder, the movement sending a dull sting through the bruise. My fingers brushed the edge of the desk, where his pen still lay, the faint smell of antiseptic lingering in the air. I had to leave before my thoughts twisted into something they shouldn’t.
The hallway outside was dim, the only light spilling from the open crack of his door. I stepped out quietly, pulling it shut behind me. The wood
