Paloma Perez.
I go to the bathroom to check the mirror, hoping all the confetti is finally out of my hair. I’ve been picking at it ever since Elijah shot the ceiling like we were in some kind of gangster fairytale. It felt like one, truly.
I stare at my reflection and press a hand to my chest, feeling my heart pound so hard it hurts. This is why I stopped talking to Pasiphae earlier—one glance at him and I forgot how to form words. Now I'm hiding again, trying to calm this ridiculous heartbeat.
That’s why I’m in here now. I need to breathe. I need to be alone long enough to gather myself.
When the bathroom door opens, I straighten immediately and pretend to fuss with my hair. I relax when I see Pasiphae in the mirror.
"Hey. You okay?" She turns the faucet on.
"Hmm hmm." I nod too q
