Seraphina's Point Of View
The restroom felt too small after he left.
Too quiet.
Too aware.
I stood there for a long second, palms flat against the sink, staring at my reflection like she might confess something if I looked hard enough. My lips were still swollen. My cheeks still flushed. My eyes…
God.
My eyes looked like I'd just survived something reckless.
Or wanted to.
I inhaled slowly. Once.
Twice.
Three times.
"Get it together," I whispered to myself, my voice barely steady.
My fingers trembled as I reached for the faucet again, twisting it until cold water gushed out, splashing against my wrists, my palms, my face.
I needed to wash him off me… the feel of his hands, the taste of his lips, the way his voice had curled around my name like a promise. He's nothing. He's no one. I repeated it in my head like a mantra, like if I said it enough times, I might actually start to believe it.
