Scarlet
“You kissed him?” I exclaimed, bolting upright in bed so fast I nearly knocked over the water glass on my nightstand.
Astrid blinked up at me, eyes wide. “Damien said he loves you?” she fired back like a missile.
“Declan kissed me,” she clarified, voice rushing now. “He kissed me. I didn’t kiss him back—I was just caught off guard.”
“He said he loved me,” I said, correcting her, my words heavy. “Past tense. There’s a difference.”
We stared at each other.
There was this stunned silence—equal parts disbelief and pure mental exhaustion—hanging between us in the darkened bedroom. My fairy lights cast a soft amber glow over the chaos of our tangled sheets and even more tangled thoughts.
“You go first,” Astrid said finally, eyes wide and mouth twitching with nerves.
I threw mysel
