4
Tessa.
It’s just after 2 a.m. when I give up on sleep. I’ve been tossing and turning for hours, sheets twisted around my legs, body still humming from the afternoon at the pool. Every time I close my eyes, I see Liam and his wet hair, strong arms, the smug, ruined look on his face when I came for him under the sun. My skin still tingles, n*****s pebbling in the cool air of my bedroom, thighs clenching at the ghost of his touch.
I blame him for this insomnia. I blame him for everything.
My stomach rumbles—nerves or hunger, I can’t tell. I pull on a big T-shirt and tiptoe down the stairs, feet cold on the wood, every creak of the old house making my heart race. I freeze at the bottom, half expecting to run into Mom, but the living room is dark and quiet.
The kitchen light glows under
