The next few hours seem to pass by in a disorienting blur for me. One minute I'm standing in Charles' backyard, lips still burning from the electrifying kisses we shared. And the next I'm jolted back to my normal routine, as if that earth-shattering romantic upheaval was just some crazy fever dream.
I go through the motions of heading back home and trying to kill time, but my mind is utterly consumed by a constant replay of those moments with Charles. The way he held me, the scorching intensity in his eyes, the gravelly timbre of his voice declaring his desire.
Was it really real? It all seems so surreal now, like some fantasy my subconscious must have cooked up. Maybe I'm finally having that long-overdue mental break from reality.
Just as I'm midway through an internal debate about whe
