Play Me Like You Mean It
I grabbed my keys and drove, gripping the wheel tight while vibing to trap songs, letting the beat distract me.
When I got to Romi’s apartment, she opened the door barefoot, hair piled up. Her space was warm, small, and messy in the best way, the smell of popcorn already drifting out.
“Oh, sweet Jesus,” she said, her eyes widening. “You look like someone ran over your heart twice.”
I didn’t answer. I just stepped forward and collapsed into her shoulder. She didn’t ask anything at first; she just wrapped her arms around me and let me cry until the hiccups came.