Lyra
I didn’t even wait for a ride. I swear my legs were moving before my brain caught up, and the next thing I knew I was running. Like actually full-on running down the street, hair flying, tears drying on my cheeks, heart pounding like some kind of war drum in my chest.
And I didn’t care how insane I looked. I didn’t care if people saw me and thought oh my God, she’s losing her mind, because I was losing my mind.
I had to get to him. I couldn’t breathe properly. My whole body was shaking, and I just—I needed to see his face. Right now. Immediately. Or I was going to implode.
And yes, okay, maybe I could’ve waited for a cab or ordered a ride or something normal, but nothing about this felt normal.
Not the panic inside me, not the way my heart hurt, and definitely not the late-ass
