9
Maya.
I’d never been like this before. Not with anyone. Not with myself. Obsession felt like a sickness, something I couldn’t shake, something that turned my days into endless waiting, my nights into hours spent staring at the ceiling, aching and empty and full of wild, helpless want.
I tried to tell myself to slow down. I tried to distract myself—read, clean, walk the block three times, do anything to outrun the thought that maybe he was done with me. That maybe, after all this, the thrill would fade and I’d be alone again, just a girl who wanted too much. It didn’t work. Every time I blinked, I saw his hands. Every breath, I tasted his skin, his sweat, the sharp bite of teeth on my throat. I hated myself for needing him this much. I loved it, too.
It was nearly two in the morning w
