Aaron
The house is too quiet. The air too still.
I stand in the dim light of my living room, the glass of scotch still in my hand, forgotten. It’s half-empty now, a reminder that I’ve been staring at it for too long. It’s not that I’m drunk—I’m not even buzzed—but my mind is foggy in a way that I can’t shake. Like I’m floating just above myself, watching everything from a distance, trying to make sense of what happened. What I did. What I said. What I didn’t say.
Chloe.
God. I can still feel her warmth, the softness of her lips against mine, the way she practically threw herself at me. I can still hear her breath, shallow and quick, the heat of her skin as she pressed closer to me, almost desperate for something more, something… I don’t even know. I should’ve known better. I should’ve
