Viv:
I f*****g hate mornings with a God damn passion.
Not just because they mean I’m usually crawling out of bed at noon after working until three. Not because my cheap blackout curtains barely block the sun from leaking in. And not even because my phone is always blowing up with Cassie’s texts about shift changes and drama and can you fill in’s.
I hate them because sometimes… they mean I’ve got time to think.
And this morning— this bright, too loud, too f*****g sober morning I can’t stop thinking about him.
Knox.
Of course his name would be something hard and sharp and stupidly f*****g masculine. I didn’t ask for it. Didn’t want it. But Riot had said it loud enough last night that it’s branded into my brain like a damn scar.
Knox.
Jesus Christ.
Thar smug f*****g bastard.
I roll
