The hallway felt endless as I trudged toward the dining room, every step weighed down by the embarrassment still buzzing in my veins. My thoughts swirled in a chaotic mess, refusing to quiet despite my best efforts.
My skin felt too warm, despite the chill in the air that seemed to seep through the walls of the old building.
No more thinking about having sex with Zaya. I clenched my fists, determined to focus on literally anything else.
The memory of her hands on me, her voice low and raw in my ear, refused to stay buried. My cheeks flared with heat again. I groaned softly and slapped my face lightly, hoping to knock some sense back into myself.
"Get it together, Layla," I muttered under my breath, shaking my head.
As I rounded a corner, a staff member carrying a stack of folded linens walked by. She stopped mid-step, her gaze lingering on me for a moment longer than was polite.
