Sheila’s POV
The morning feels heavy. My head’s still foggy, my body slower than usual. The air in my apartment is warm and thick, sticking to my skin. I tell myself I’m just tired, but I know that’s a lie. I can’t stop thinking about him.
About Brendan.
Every part of me remembers last night the way he touched me, the way he looked at me like he knew exactly what I wanted even when I didn’t say it. I hate that my body reacts just from thinking about it. My thighs press together, trying to calm the heat that shouldn’t still be there.
I open my laptop, trying to focus on my notes. It’s pointless. The words blur together, useless on the screen. My fingers hover over the keyboard, but my mind is nowhere near school. It’s trapped back in that room, under him, lost in how he made me feel.
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