Zoe
Shit. He’s for real? Blake Thompson really wants me to go to his room?
I bit my nails, glancing at the clock like it was about to explode. Ten minutes had passed, and I was still sitting here, debating whether I had completely lost my mind.
This was insane. I was insane. What kind of girl sneaks out in the middle of the night to go hook up with the guy who’s basically ruined her ability to function like a normal human being? Not me. Nope. I’m sensible, rational—oh my God, who am I kidding?
I stood up, then sat back down. Stood up again. What the hell was I even doing? My palms were sweaty, my heart was racing, and I couldn’t stop glancing at my phone, waiting for another text, something like, “Just kidding, Zoe, this was all a joke.”
But nothing. Silence. Blake was dead serious.
