My slanted, hasty handwriting is scrolled across my palm, relaying a very important message: She said I could touch her when I’m sober. I’m shocked that I have no recollection of writing this, considering how vividly I remember everything else about last night. Paedyn pressed against me, our conversation, her panic before I untied the laces of her dress. My lips twitch at the thought before I’m suppressing a smile when I remember how she pinned Blair during their fight and made her bleed.
