5
Lila.
The house was supposed to be mine for a full twenty-four hours. That was the deal I made with the universe: one day of silence, one evening of poor decisions, one night to lie on my bed and replay every mistake in delicious detail. I lit a candle that smelled like vanilla and trouble and left my bedroom door cracked two fingers wide because I liked the idea of breaking rules with the door almost closed. Petty, I know, but petty is my superpower.
Damien was on my bed, propped on an elbow like he belonged to the furniture. Shoes off, sleeves rolled, the kind of stillness that makes you want to poke just to see if he moves. I’d been telling him a ridiculous story about a girl in my department who claimed her professor had plagiarized her t****k caption. He was pretending to listen,
