RHEA
I don’t have any nightmares.
That’s the first thing I register when I wake up. The second is that I don’t open my eyes right away. I just yawn and sink deeper into the mattress.
God, this bed is obscenely comfortable.
Did Roofus buy a new one?
He really shouldn’t have. I’d already planned to use the money from the club to fix a few things around the apartment. He’s a college student—textbooks, tuition, dates with his boyfriend should come before luxury mattresses and—
Wait.
Money from the club?
My eyes snap open.
I bolt upright, the sheets sliding down my body, heart hammering. I’m fully dressed. In pyjamas.
Not mine.
They’re large and soft. Ridiculously so. The kind of fabric you don’t just buy—you’re given it, or you steal it, or it comes attached to a life you don’t live
