The gala high lasted exactly three days.
Three days of waking up tangled in Damien’s sheets, his mouth on my neck before my eyes were open, his hands already between my legs like he couldn’t wait another second. Three days of him dropping me at campus with a kiss that made my thighs clench the whole lecture. Three days of Sofia texting me nonstop:
Sofia: Girl you’re glowing so hard the sun is jealous. Spill or I riot.
Me: Later. Promise.
Sofia: You said that yesterday. I’m staging a coup.
I kept putting her off. Not because I didn’t want to talk, but because every time I thought about telling her the truth about the vibrator in class, the mirror in the VIP bathroom, the way I came screaming his name while the city glittered below, I felt heat crawl up my neck and something else twist
