The ladies’ bathroom.
Wren’s chin touched her chest as she leaned the weight of both hands on the sink. And then she stared at herself in the mirror, with the smear of lipstick on the corners of her mouth. She was this close to using a smear-proof lipstick when the makeup artist had asked earlier.
“It’s not like I was expecting to get kissed at an event,” she hissed at herself.
“f*****g animal,” she hissed again.
She then pulled out some paper towels and savagely scrubbed at her mouth.
Every swipe she made felt like erasing a layer of him… the pressure of his mouth…the invasive thrust of his tongue and the grip on her arms.
Stop it. She snapped herself out, shaking her head quickly before flinging the paper towel into the trash can. She missed and it landed on the floor
