It was lunchtime, and I was still riding the high of Zaya's punch from earlier. The memory replayed itself in my head over and over, like a satisfying scene from one of those cheap soap operas, but way better because it was real.
The look on that golden-haired idiot's face had been priceless, like someone had just told him his favorite shirt had been ruined. I couldn't help but smirk as I stabbed a piece of my salad.
Lise, Zaya, and I were sitting together at one of the long tables in the dining hall. We weren't talking much, but it wasn't tense, just...quiet.
After the nonsense earlier, maybe we all needed some time to decompress. I was fine with that no need to fill the silence when it wasn't awkward.
I glanced at Zaya across the table. She was wolfing down her food like usual, probably plotting her next move or thinking about how to avoid any consequences from her earlier little outburst.
