After the night I’d had, I probably should’ve stayed home wrapped in three blankets and existential dread. But instead—red heels, trauma tucked neatly beneath under-eye concealer, and a dangerously optimistic attitude.
I slipped into my black dress, paired it with my favorite red pumps, and took one last glance in the mirror. I was actually thirty minutes early, which never happened. So I decided to be bold and caffeinated—a.k.a. make a coffee run.
Blair was still passed out in my bed like a hungover koala. That girl could sleep through an alien invasion.
I grabbed two caramel frappes and Jacob’s go-to double shot vanilla espresso, then made my first delivery at Vaughn Tech. Jacob wasn’t in yet, so I left his drink on his desk with a sticky note:
Thanks for your help last night. Strang
