SEIRRA'S POINT OF VIEW
The door slammed shut behind me like a thunderclap.
I didn’t care that I was dripping all over the floor, or that my heels were soaked, or that my mascara had probably made a mess of my entire face. I dumped my purse on the bed like it had offended me, dragging in deep, shaky breaths as if that would help ease the heat under my skin.
Becca appeared in the hallway, eyes wide. “Whoa. What the hell happened to you?”
I didn’t answer. I just peeled off my coat and tossed it to the floor.
“Sierra,” she said again, stepping into my room, arms crossed. “You look like a storm chewed you up and spat you out. What happened?”
I blinked hard. Once. Twice. And then it just slipped out. “The date was ruined.”
Her brows furrowed. “Wait. Ruined? By who?”
“Logan,” I spat the
