Cassie
I spent most of the morning trying to convince myself I was overreacting.
It was not working.
By lunchtime, I had answered fourteen emails, approved the volunteer schedule for next week, dealt with an argument between two Delta sisters over a missing curling iron, and reorganized the fundraiser receipts into three separate folders even though they had already been organized perfectly well the first time. None of it helped. My mind still drifted back to Brett standing outside the athletic center with those girls, especially the blonde who had leaned up and kissed his cheek as though touching him was the most natural thing in the world.
It had probably meant nothing.
That was what I kept telling myself.
It was a kiss on the cheek, not a proposal. Brett had not pulled her closer
