Olivia Westview
When I got home, I tossed my bag onto the couch and slipped off my shoes.
I was thankful for the solitude as Mom and Dad were gone for some out-of-town trip. Sighing, I wandered into the kitchen, but the idea of making dinner felt exhausting. After that exchange with James, a hollow ache had settled in my chest, and no amount of logical thinking could talk me out of it. I glanced at the fridge, trying to summon an appetite, but the knot in my stomach told me it wasn’t happening.
Instead, I wandered into my bedroom, slipping into sweats and a loose T-shirt. But lying there in the quiet, my thoughts just spun circles around everything. I felt ridiculous and restless, wanting something I knew better than to ask for. Eventually, I rolled over, hoping I could just will myself
