XXIII

It's past midnight when I finally crawl into bed, worn out and mad at myself for agreeing to go out with Rosemary. I should have just handed off the dress and accessories and done a walk of shame back to my room. Okay, not that kind of 'walk of shame' but still.

I narrow my eyes at my ceiling. Despite my tiredness, my eyes won't stay shut. I sigh and throw my covers off of me, bounding out of bed, flipping the light switch on as I go.

Then I stop. Because what am I doing? I think there was a part of me that immediately thought of texting Ethan, or phoning him to hear his voice. And then maybe there was a fleeting thought that told me I shouldn't reach out to Ethan because I only do it when I need something. Need help. Need comfort. Need attention.

Right?

But when else should you reach out to someone?

Rosemary's words repeat in my head.

I didn't realize I was pacing, spinning aimlessly in circles around my room.

Maybe I'm an idiot. A piece of work.