The worst part?
Now I was thinking about it.
Now I was remembering the dream I had the other night.
Now I was remembering that unknown guy’s hand under my shirt in that dream, and the way he whispered my name like it tasted sweet on his tongue, and the way I woke up panting into my pillow with a wetness I definitely wasn’t going to explain to anybody.
Nope.
No.
Absolutely not.
I shook my head so hard I nearly gave myself whiplash.
“I’m never speaking to Mum again,” I muttered, still folded into myself like a crumpled piece of emotional paper. My arms were crossed, my chest was tight, and my dignity was six feet under.
My dad laughed under his breath, the kind of deep, knowing laugh that said he’d been alive long enough to survive all kinds of tantrums, rebellion, and hormonal expl
