Sleep never comes. When the first orange light edges across the ceiling, I’m left staring at it, heart aching, skin humming with the memory of his touch and the spark that passed between us. The dorm is quiet except for the faint ticking of the clock. I lie there, unmoving, afraid that if I breathe too deeply, the air will c***k open and drag me back to him.
Whatever happened last night didn’t end in the woods. It’s still alive in me, whispering, pulsing like a heartbeat that isn’t mine.
Since it’s a Wiccan day of rest, there’s thankfully no class. I slump out of my room, exhausted, and head to Viola’s. I knock, and after a loud thump followed by an immediate “ow,” she opens the door. Her red curls run wild as she wipes her face, clearly freshly woken.
“Hey,” she yawns.
“I kissed Olive
