VIOLETTA
I stared at my reflection for what had to be the umpteenth time that morning.
Cassian’s white hockey jersey hung loosely over my body, the sleeves falling past my wrists while the hem stopped halfway down my thighs.
It practically swallowed me.
I slowly turned, my eyes landing on ALEXANDRIS boldly printed across the back.
This felt…I shook my head reminding myself that this is fake.
But it still drew me back to the amount of times I wished I was screaming my boyfriend's name rather than exchanging fake smiles wherever we passed each other at the arena.
Not only had I never been able to support Logan openly, I’d also had to watch him celebrate victories and party with other girls because, to everyone else, I was nothing more than Logan Whitaker’s social media manager.
A kno
