3
Lena.
The shower always cleared my head. At least, it used to.
Now it just steamed it up.
The moment I turned off the water, I stood there in the silence, heart ticking too fast again, thinking about last night. About Michael’s hands on my hips. His mouth on mine, and the way he’d kissed me like he was starved, and then stopped like it killed him.
We hadn’t spoken about it, not one word.
He’d been gone this morning before I even made it to the kitchen. He had left a note on the counter that said: Meeting downtown. Back late. Left you coffee.
Classic Michael. Half-warm, half-untouchable.
I wrapped myself in a towel, too lazy to dig for clean clothes, and padded down the hall toward my room, dripping a little trail behind me.
And that’s when I walked into him.
Literally.
He cam
