Claire
I barely slept. I lay in bed with my heart pounding, Lisa’s message replaying over and over. 'Is something going on? Do I need to be worried about you?' It wasn’t just curiosity. It was a warning. She knew me too well. She could read between the lines I hadn’t drawn straight enough.
I showered again at sunrise, scrubbing his touch off my skin, but it didn’t work. I could still feel his hands, his mouth, the way he filled me so deep I forgot who I was.
By morning, I’d made my decision.
This had to stop.
I dressed quickly— jeans, a plain white tee, no makeup. I didn’t want to be desirable. I didn’t want him to look at me like I was a prize. I just wanted my life back.
At 8:13 a.m., I texted him: 'Come over. We need to talk.'
He didn’t reply. But five minutes later, I heard the
