Jaxon's POV
If she slapped her forehead one more time, I was going to throw the pillow at her. Not because I was actually mad at her, I wasn’t. Just... annoyed, frustrated, and maybe a little amused too.
It had been ten minutes. Ten, and in all that time, Alex had said nothing except, “This can’t be happening,” over and over again like a prayer or a curse.
She was sprawled dramatically across the bed like the world had ended, running her hand over her face, slapping her forehead, then repeating the cycle. It was almost impressive.
I had already finished unpacking my stuff. Not that I had much. Just my bag with a few clothes, a water bottle, the emergency pills I kept hidden inside a sock, and the small, beaten-up book my mom once gave me. I shoved it under my pillow like I always did.
