I spent the rest of the weekend submerged in a mechanical routine that barely managed to keep at bay the thoughts piercing my skull.
I trained until my muscles burned, I went out with the guys to drink a couple of beers that tasted like metal to me, and I checked my phone every goddamn second, waiting for a notification that never arrived.
Since Saturday afternoon, after that message from Naomi, I decided not to write to Maren again. Alpha pride burned inside me; I wasn't going to lower myself to begging for attention.
Monday, 7:00 AM.
It was seven in the morning on Monday when I found myself in front of my bedroom mirror, adjusting my shirt collar, with dark circles marking a night of insomnia caused by nights without sleep, imagining a thousand scenarios where she explained to me wh
