38. Bryanna

I slept eight hours straight for the first time in three weeks. Maybe it have something to do with my best friend's presence—she's still sleeping and hogging the bed, by the way, that girl—or, it's just that I feel so much lighter after unloading my baggage last night.

Poor best friend had to listen to all of that. Maybe that's why she's still asleep. My drama is keeping her tied to the bed.

Or, she's just dealing with her food coma.

We couldn't be so sure which one is right with her.

I pad to the kitchen and color me not so surprise to see Tom already sits on one of the stool, a steaming mug of coffee on the breakfast bar in front of him, phone in his hand.

"Good sleep?" he asks, diverting his vision from the screen to me. I am met with dark pools of understanding.

It's comforting and terrifying at the same time. This guy. Morwenna is sooo lucky to have him for better or worst.

"Yeah," I croak, then clear my throat. I haven't brush my teeth. I haven't wash my face. Even my hair