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But when I open my eyes again, I’m still in my bathroom and I’m still a disaster. This isn’t how I thought the night would end.
At all.
FORTY-TWO
ARCH
I’ve been upsince six—unheard of for me. I can’t get what happened between Daisy and me last night out of my mind. I can’t get her out of my head, not that I want to, but fuck.
I’m obsessed.
The sound of her voice, the taste of her mouth, her skin, her pussy...
Having sex with her for the first time was like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. All of the sexual encounters with Daisy feel different. It’s like I care more. It means more.
Shit, Iamin love with her. Helplessly, completely in love with her.
I’ve already taken a shower and ate a protein bar. Again, completely unheard of for me. I’m eagerly waiting for Daisy to come out of her house, still lingering in my room and staring at the cottage through my window. It’s getting late. First period is going to start any minute and I’m dressed and ready to go for once in my life.
Looks like waiting for Daisy is going to actually make me late.
This is a first.
When she still hasn’t come out and there’s literally three minutes before the bell rings, I’m texting her, pissed at myself for waiting this long.
Me:Are you okay?
Two freaking minutes pass and she finally answers me.
Daze:Can you take me somewhere?
I don’t even hesitate.
Me:Where?
Daze:Come pick me up please. My dad is already gone.
I leave my room and sprint over to Daisy’s place, ready to barge right in when she opens the front door, surprising me. She’s not in her uniform. She’s wearing dark gray sweatpants and a big black hoodie with the hood completely covering her head. Like I can’t even see her eyes or nose, just her mouth.
“Daze?”
She opens the door wider. “Come in.”
I walk inside the house, glancing around the room, unable to shake the weird feeling creeping over me. Something’s wrong.
I can sense it.
“Tell me what’s going on,” I demand as soon as she approaches me.
With shaky fingers, she reaches up and tugs the hood back, revealing her face.
With jagged cuts all over it.
“What the fuck, Daisy? What happened to you?” I reach for her, my touch gentle as I carefully cup her cheeks and examine her face with my gaze. The biggest cut is on her cheekbone and it looks deep, but not deep enough for stitches. I don’t think. There’s a tiny butterfly bandage on it, keeping the wound together, but it still looks like it’s bleeding.
“A vase broke last night,” she says, her voice flat. “I cut myself.”
“You broke the vase?”
