Thirty-two:
Fiona Fallon
There was knocking on the door.
“Who the bloody hell would knock this early?” Kenna demanded from her bed.
“It’s Monday,” I reminded her, “maybe it’s an emergency drill.”
“Fallon!” it was a guy’s voice. One that sounded suspiciously like Jack.
I groaned. “Nope. Nope. I didn’t hear that.”
Kenna sat up immediately, looking like the cat that caught the canary. “Oh my god! Is that who I think it is? What, did ya spike his drink with love potion?”
I frowned. “It can’t be Jack. Why would he be hear so early?”
“I don’t know, but he’s askin’ for ya.”
The knocking continued. “Fallon!”
I jumped out of bed. “He’s cute but it’s eight a.m
