My collection of masks was a well-kept secret, a hidden repertoire that concealed the real me. Even though I felt broken inside, I was going to show a perfect picture on the outside that made others jealous.
On the surface, I looked like a strong fortress, but deep down, I was more like a fragile sandcastle. Each wave hitting the shore slowly chipped away at my defenses. The stories I wrote in the sand kept disappearing, one after another, with every crashing wave.
As I walked through the busy hotel lobby, ready to call Alex on my phone, I noticed he was already there.
I didn't want him to see how much last night had messed with my head or how much it hurt. I was so done looking like a heartbroken girl. If I told him I wanted to ride back with Dorian, it would mean I was taking everyth
