Playing (Inked Hearts 2)

I didn't have a fucking clue.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Iris

I wake up with a familiar headache. An I've been crying all night, my body is deprived of sleep, salt, and water headache.

Coffee and sugar only make it worse.

I'm a zombie at school. I absorb nothing in my classes. I fumble over walking undergrads through experiments. I stare at the results without a clue as to what they mean.

Work is the only thing that makes sense to me.

And even that is fuzzy.

* * *

A long walk helps. The pounding fades to a dull ache. My thoughts settle. The world comes into focus.

I manage to sleep. To get up on time. Shower. Eat breakfast. Drink coffee. Pretend to pay attention at school.

I even make it to the gym. And manage to read a little.

But, all day, I think of him.

He might hate me.

He might never want to see me again.

But then he might not.

He might forgive me.

He might still care about me.

I wait until I'm home. Until I'm fed and showered and ready for bed.

And I text him.

Iris: I'm sorry.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Walker

My phone buzzes against the end table.

Fuck. I thought I turned that off.

Who the hell is texting at this hour?

I squeeze my eyes shut. Rub my temples. My head is still aching. It's been aching nonstop for days. Ever since I saw Iris's heartbreak written all over her face.

I did that.

But she—

Fuck.