P.S. You're My Mate
The note read:
'Good morning sweet cheeks...
Sorry, I'm leaving so early. I have an important meeting to get to but trust me, we will see each other very soon. I'm sorry about last night. I'd like a do-over.
Until then,
S. Wilde
P.S. You're my mate.'
My brain kept repeating those last words that were mentioned out of nowhere.
P.S. You're my mate.
They echoed in my head, dulling everything out. There was a throbbing pain that set in; it felt like someone took a metal baseball bat and began rapidly bashing my head in, leaving me no recovery period in between blows.
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