Page 58

I went back to my room starving, but I couldn't care less.

It was better than staying in that kitchen and making myself breakfast.

A part of me wanted to be around Monroe.

I wanted an excuse to be around her, but I knew that would jeopardize all the progress I had made.

It's already jeopardizing it.

Even laying eyes on her or talking to her was enough to leave me reeling.

I seriously need to force myself to stay away.

I tried my best to sleep another hour or so, given breakfast wasn't available to order until six.

But I was woken up out of my sleep by a few knocks on my door, making me tap my phone to see the time.

Only three more minutes until I can order food, but then I still have to fucking wait for it to come.

"Oh... hey?" I awkwardly said as I opened the door, eyeing the worker dressed in a grey uniform.

She wore her dark hair pulled back with a polite smile on her face, holding a tray in her hands.

"Your breakfast, ma'am," she said, passing the tray over to me.

I furrowed my brows, hesitantly taking the heavy wooden tray from her.

It had numerous covered dishes.

"Thank you?" I said the words almost in question.

I guess they meant we get breakfast at six instead of ordering it?

"Enjoy," the worker nodded, backing away as I let the door fall closed.

I quickly rushed to the bed, carefully setting the tray on the mattress.

I pulled the different lids off, setting them aside on the nightstand before crawling onto the bed.

There were eggs, toast with jam, fruit, overnight oats, and tea on the side.

I grabbed the shiny fork, scooping the eggs up and taking the largest bites.

I also grabbed a piece of the toast, cut into diagonal triangles, taking almost three bites in a row and chewing roughly.

I didn't care how messily I ate—all that was on my mind was filling my aching stomach.

I took a few more bites of the eggs, reaching for a spoon to scoop some of the soft oatmeal into my mouth.

There were also strawberries on top, making my mouth water for more.

I nearly finished the oatmeal in less than ten bites, grabbing another piece of toast, I scooped impatiently into the strawberry jelly before taking a large bite.

It was so fucking good.

I finished the eggs, oatmeal, and toast in less than a few minutes.

I felt full, but my stomach hadn't processed that yet, so I decided to snack on the fruit as I drank my tea.

I hummed as I swallowed my sip of tea, basking in the perfectly warm liquid.

It was blueberry—one of my favorites right now.

I paused my actions, unconsciously staring down at the shiny white mug.

My heartbeat ticked in my chest, furrowing my brows as I set the mug down on the tray with a clatter.

How would they know to send blueberry tea?

It's such a specific kind of tea.

I understand more basic teas like chai or green tea, but this is too coincidental.

I let out a deep breath, blinking a few times as I tried to process who sent this breakfast.

It doesn't automatically get sent.

What the fuck was I thinking?

Dr. Kincaid specifically said I could order at six.

Not that it would just magically come.

Monroe sent this.

Of course, she did.

The entire meal has her name written all over it, especially the different dishes she picked out for me.

I'm still stuck on the blueberry tea because if she knows about that—

Then she's still watching me.

She still has eyes on me.

I suddenly slid out of bed, rushing past the bedroom toward the bathroom.

I stumbled down to my knees by the toilet, the cold floor pressed into my skin.

I didn't care.

I shoved my finger down my throat, hoping to make myself throw up the meal she just sent me.

It was what she wanted.

She wanted me to eat and comply.

"Fuck," I choked, my eyes burning with tears as I repeatedly made myself gag.

It was harder since most of my food had been digested.

Thirty minutes is normally how long I have until I can't throw any of it back up.

I barely vomited anything, just some of the fruit and tea I had.

Everything else already digested, and it genuinely pissed me off.

She pisses me off.

I sat on the bathroom floor for a few minutes, staring blankly at the wall.

My jaw was tight, and every bone in my body was tense with irritation.

I could hear my deep measured breaths heavy in my ears, trying to stay calm, but it was fucking impossible.

I stumbled up from the cold floor, grabbing my toothbrush and toothpaste to brush my teeth.

As I did that, I walked into the bedroom, picking out a casual outfit for today.

I settled on a black tank top with matching sweatpants and a jacket to wear over it, considering the cold weather.

I pulled the outfit on after brushing my teeth, then I did my skincare and touched up my curly hair.

My motions were rushed as I slipped on a pair of sneakers, quickly spraying my perfume, and grabbing my room key before walking outside.

There was only one thing on my mind—one person I wanted to speak with.

Or yell at.

I walked quickly down the sidewalk, sliding my room key into my pocket as I glanced around the retreat.

"Hey," I quickly called out, noticing another woman further up the sidewalk.

She had blonde hair, wearing leggings and a t-shirt.

The woman looked confused as she turned around, her brows furrowed as she met my stare.

"Sorry, I just wondered if you knew where Dr. Leclair is?" I quickly rushed out, needing some sort of hint on her whereabouts.

Otherwise, it might take me forever to find her.

"Oh, I think I just saw her leave with the trail group?" the blonde said, motioning over to one of the many trails. "Don't quote me, though."

I quickly nodded, "Perfect, thank you so much," I blurted, brushing past her in a light jog with hopes of catching up with the group.

Luckily, I wore my Nikes so I didn't struggle that much with jogging majority of the hilly trails.

The tall trees were thick, the air moist and cold, and random tree branches stuck out of the dirt path.

All I could hear were my labored breaths in my ears, quickening my jogging as my heart pounded heavily in my chest.

I probably should've drank water or something because now I'm really fucking thirsty.

All I've had today were those few sips of tea, which I sincerely regret taking now that I know she sent it.

My ears quickly perked up, hearing a muffled chatter growing closer.

I slowed down my jogging, not wanting to run up on a group of people and startle them.

That would be fucking embarrassing, so I decided to casually walk the rest of the way.

Or I tried to seem casual.

It was hard when I noticed her familiar presence at the back of the group.

Her dark hair was in a low ponytail compared to earlier, the soft strands cascading down to her waist in soft waves.

She wore straight-leg jeans that hugged her waist perfectly, the black denim looking almost faded and vintage.

The smooth black long-sleeve she wore was tucked into her jeans, clinging to her body and outlining her toned arms.

Monroe and jeans were one of my annoying weaknesses, or maybe it was everything in general on her.

She's my weakness.

Suddenly, I felt speechless, unable to form any words as I eyed the backside of her body.

Much less, remember why I was mad.

But as I approached her, I knew I had to get it the fuck together.

If not, this conversation won't turn out in my favor.

"I didn't need you to send me breakfast," I said as soon as I caught up to her, my words lowered between us.

Monroe glanced over immediately, her blue eyes locking with mine.

Her diverted attention made the cold air evaporate around me, feeling this unbearable warmth suffocating me as I held her stare.

It's like everything faded.

The chatter from the nearby group was muffled in my ears, focused purely on her, whether I liked it or not.

"I didn't realize you were into trails," Monroe murmured casually, completely ignoring my words as we followed behind the group of people and the guide.

"The tea," I mumbled, glancing away from her precise stare, "You sent blueberry tea."

"I assume you ran to catch up with us?" she asked, disregarding my words again as her stare burned into the side of my face.

I clenched my jaw, turning my head to the left as I purposely avoided her entire presence.

I didn't even want to give her the opportunity to look at my face fully.

"I know you're still watching me."

My words were lowered, yet somehow held weight in the cold air around us.

I nearly stumbled over my own feet when Monroe cleanly halted her steps, forcing me to stop walking with her.

The group carried on with the trail, leaving us alone, surrounded by tall trees and an unbearable tension.

Monroe's bare skin nearly glowed under the gloomy grey sky, staring silently at me for a moment.

My chest rose and fell with each breath as we looked at each other for endless seconds, inches of space burning between us.

Our expressions were blank, but the look in her eyes... the look in mine.

There was something here.

"You're ruining my progress," I spoke first, unable to take the tension that this silence brought.

Monroe rolled her soft lips into a line, amused by my words. "Progress?" she clarified distastefully. "That's the entire basis of what you've been avoiding, Liberty."

Of course, she fucking knows I've been avoidant.

She's been watching me.

I rolled my eyes. "You're the one still keeping tabs on me. Maybe you should ask yourself if you're avoiding your progress, too," I shot back.

She tilted her head. "And you befriended my past arrangement. You're constantly forcing yourself to keep busy. Do you really want to have this conversation with me, Liberty?" she asked, making my face grow warm.

I'm not even surprised that she knows about Maricel.

In fact, I expected her to reach out about it sooner.

"You're literally stalking me, and somehow I'm in the wrong for being friends with Maricel?" I scoffed, shaking my head. "How were those nude photos she sent, by the way? I'm sure you enjoyed those."

Monroe hummed so softly, entirely unaffected by my words, "I don't need those when I have you in print. I assume you recall the Polaroids?"

I felt my jaw grow tight, glancing away from her entirely.

I also took a step back, needing so much more space between us.

The naked Polaroids I gifted to her for Valentine's Day were at the front of my head, my face burning up unbearably from the memory.

Much less the idea of her looking at them in her free time.

"You seriously need to leave me alone, Monroe," I said, even if it was the last thing I wanted.

But I can't do this again.

I can't get caught up in her again, especially not with the dead-end road that this leads to for us.

I lost myself entirely too much to risk it all again.

No matter how much I want to.

"Leave you alone?" Monroe echoed my words, her blue eyes trailing my face so openly.

It made me draw in a deep breath, noticing the darkened look behind her eyes.

How detached she suddenly felt.

My stare shifted past her, unable to hold her burning stare.

"I never agreed to that," she had the nerve to say, making me shake my head to myself.

"You ended this—you insisted on space. You can't do this, Monroe," I pointed out, my words lowered and tense.

I felt fucking tense, especially with her stare heavy against my face.

Her words warmed something deeply inside of me.

The way she said them, how serious she was with me.

Fuck.

"That's a new one," Monroe murmured, making my stare shift back to her, "I've never been told what I can't do, Liberty."

Shivers ran down my spine when her lips twitched up into a subtle smile, letting out the softest sigh as if this were genuinely amusing to her.

It was unintentionally attractive, but that's just who she is.

Monroe can breathe or blink, and it's somehow fucking attractive.

Focus.

I need to focus.

"Dr. Kincaid heard us in the kitchen earlier," I suddenly said, unable to continue on with our previous topic.

Not with how she's looking at me.

She hasn't glanced away from me once, and it's beginning to eat away at me.

"I know," Monroe said, which wasn't even surprising to me. "I gathered that when she was seated at the dining room table."

I lazily raised my brows, "While we're doing confessionals," I murmured, "She flirted with me at that one school event—you know, the one where you got that award and edged me in the backseat for hugging her?

" I purposely added, my voice softening with her as I stared deeply into her eyes.

She narrowed her eyes at my words.

And finally... her composure was ripped from her.

I could tell by the subtle flex of her sharp jaw.

The way she crossed her arms tightly over her chest, her muscles tense through her smooth shirt.

"So did you want to tell me how I'm so deeply involved in this or..." I trailed off with a fake smile growing on my lips.

Monroe was only silent, staring at me blankly, even if I could sense the spiral occurring behind her eyes.

I knew my words trashed her precisely organized mind.

"You kept this from me for weeks, Liberty?" Monroe finally spoke, rolling her shoulders back as she leveled her chin.

I could see something switch inside her, quickly regaining her composure again.

"Oh, I assumed you knew everything?" I softly murmured, furrowing my brows like I was genuinely confused. "Didn't you say I only lie to you because you let me?"

Monroe hummed.

Very tightly.

"This behavior, Liberty," she murmured, her eyes trailing my face in disapproval.

Her disapproval alone made my face grow warm, but I fought it.

"Mad you can't fix it?" I asked innocently, tilting my head in deeper confusion.

"Fix it?" Monroe emphasized, her stare sinking deeply into mine, "We both know I would break you instead, Liberty. Don't do that."

I remained silent, clenching my jaw as her words sank deeper inside of me.

Especially as I recalled all the intimate moments with her.

How she could bring me to tears and make me moan at the same time.

"She's been watching you," Monroe spoke again when I remained silent, her words reluctant and lowered.

Almost like she didn't want to say them aloud at all.

It made something twist uncomfortably in my stomach, but I pushed it away.

I refused to give Monroe the reaction she wanted.

It felt like she was saying I told you so.

"Add her to the list," I mumbled, deciding to joke about this situation instead.

Even if a huge part of me is creeped out by the idea of Dr. Kincaid watching me just as Monroe has been.

I'm not involved with Dr. Kincaid as I had been with Monroe.

She has no reason to be watching me.

Neither does Monroe, but at least we were entangled.

And I... want Monroe to watch me?

I know I shouldn't, but the better half of me doesn't want her to ever move on.

I knew better.

After these last two weeks of pure hell, I learned enough to know better.

"I know how she operates, Liberty. None of this should be remotely amusing," Monroe said, snapping me from my thoughts.

I remained silent, unsure of what to say to her serious words.

I knew this was a big deal, especially since Monroe doesn't have as much control over Dr. Kincaid.

I remember her telling me that Dr. Kincaid got her job through a higher connection—it's why Monroe can't remove her.

But that doesn't mean this is her problem.

Nothing involving me is her problem anymore.

"You seriously need to find a new arrangement to worry about," I said, even if the words physically hurt my stomach to say. "Maybe go get laid, Monroe," I added, walking past her before I could take the words back.

I think I could throw up at the idea of her sleeping with another woman.

Much less, her actually doing it.

"Come here then," I heard her say, making my feet halt underneath me.

Her direct words made me clench my jaw, desperately trying to fight the warmth oozing in my lower stomach.

It struck between my legs, making me draw in a tight breath.

"I'm good," I mumbled dryly, still refusing to turn around and face her.

But I couldn't move from my spot either.

I just stood there awkwardly, staring forward at the trees as I anticipated what she would say next.

Then I heard it.

The crunch of a broken stick underneath her shoes, taking a few steps closer to me.

It made my head grow dizzy, especially when her familiar perfume breezed past me.

I could feel how close she was.

Yet her body didn't touch mine.

"You need to work through it, Liberty. Not around it," she softly whispered, her delicate voice making everything inside of me tense up, "You can't make progress if you avoid facing the worst part of it."

I let out a deep sigh, stiffly staring forward as I processed her words.

The genuine advice she gave.

I knew it was insane to take advice from the person I'm quite literally trying to get over, but she's that fucking good at her job.

She always knows what I need and how I need it.

I would be naive not to take her advice, honestly.

"The worst part of it is standing behind me," I suddenly whispered, my words barely inaudible.

Monroe didn't say anything.

But I could hear her soft breathing.

I could feel her body still standing behind mine.

I stepped forward before I could think it through, putting distance between us.

Then I took a few more steps, even if everything inside of me didn't want to leave her alone in this endless forest.

But I can't truly face the worst part of this.

I can't face her.

I... don't want to move on from her.

I know it's fucked up, but maybe I want to be stuck on her.

I don't ever want to stop thinking about her throughout the day or remembering certain memories of what it was like to be in her world.

It's breaking me apart, but I'm letting it.

I'll never get away from Monroe Leclair.

I walked the same way I came, going the opposite way of Monroe.

I didn't turn around to check if she had moved.

I just kept walking.

Faster.

I began jogging, feeling more and more suffocated the longer I was surrounded by these tall trees.

My breathing grew shallow as I jogged faster, searching for any sign of the familiar buildings.

It took countless minutes to reach the familiar main area of the retreat, my breath rising and falling as I tried to regain my composure.

I walked the rest of the way towards the different buildings, the sidewalk smooth underneath my shoes.

My breathing grew a little steadier and the cold air around me suddenly felt relieving.

I let out a deep sigh as I passed the main building—

Until I locked eyes with her.

Dr. Kincaid.

She wore the same outfit from earlier, a dark sweater and dress pants with leather loafers.

I wanted to turn around, or keep walking, and pretend I didn't see her.

But it was too late.

She was already walking towards me.

Fuck.

A staycation would've been better than this fucking trip.

"Oh hey," I said as she approached me, trying not to sound as awkward as I felt.

But I can't unhear what Monroe just told me.

I wish I had asked her more about Dr. Kincaid, but my ego made the choices during our conversation.

"I was wondering where you were," Dr. Kincaid said, her nude lips tugged up into a soft smile. "Are you available for a session? Or would later work better for you?"

I blinked a few times at her question, completely forgetting that this entire retreat revolves around therapy.

Great.

"Uh, I was actually planning to—" I subtly glanced past her, noticing the illuminated Spa building, "I wanted a massage," I quickly lied, motioning my head to the building behind her.

Otherwise, my diverted attention made no sense.

At least it looked like I was headed in that direction from the trail.

"Of course," Dr. Kincaid didn't hesitate to say, even if she didn't bother glancing over at the building I motioned to, "We can do your session after."

I forced a smile, "Perfect," I mumbled, trying to seem enthusiastic, but the word sounded more sarcastic instead.

Dr. Kincaid only nodded. "Come to the main building when you're finished. My office is over there," she instructed, her dark eyes holding mine.

"Okay," I said, forcing my tight smile to grow as I walked past her toward the spa building.

I honestly wanted to go back to my room, but I knew Dr. Kincaid would notice my change of route.

God only knows if she's watching me here as well, so I just stuck to my lie and walked into the building.

It was dim and smelled like essential oils, the lobby minimalistic and calming my built-up nerves.

Maybe I do need a massage.

This could be really nice for me.

Apparently, I didn't even need to make an appointment, but that felt guaranteed given this retreat is catered to a small number of people.

The receptionist was really nice and spoke in a softer tone, naturally making me relax more.

She led me to the locker rooms, where white robes were already provided in the lockers.

Once I was alone, I stripped out of my clothes, pulling the soft white robe on, and grabbing the slippers provided.

Then I walked to the room she specified, which was a little further down the hall.

The masseuse was an older woman, her black hair pulled into a tight bun, wearing the usual staff uniform.

She smiled politely as soon as I entered the room, explaining that she would step out so I could get undressed and comfortable.

I happily untied my robe the moment she shut the door, sliding onto the cushioned table and slipping under the white cover.

I left it at my lower back, relaxing my face against the circular cushion with a hole in it to see the floor.

A few moments later, the woman entered, making me lift my head slightly to watch her grab certain lotions and oils from the cabinet.

I relaxed as she approached me, setting the different products on the tall table nearby.

But before she could even start, three quick knocks sounded at the door.

The sharp sound irritated me, feeling the woman's presence back away from me to answer the door.

"One moment," I heard her tell me, along with the sound of the door softly opening a few seconds later.

"We can't offer massages," I heard one of the other workers say, her voice feminine.

I immediately furrowed my brows at her words.

I know good and fucking well I didn't just get undressed and go through all of this to not get a massage.

"We're closing early?" the masseuse asked, sounding confused by her words.

"She needs to get dressed," was all the worker said.

Then I heard her footsteps echo away, and the door softly fall closed again.

"I'm so sorry about this," the woman said as she approached me again, "I don't know what's going on, but I think it's best if you get dressed."

I briefly pursed my lips together, "Of course," I forced out, trying to mask my irritation.

It's not this woman's fault.

Something tells me someone else is behind this.

Monroe.

I can't do fucking anything.

Of course, someone else massaging me is enough to bother her.

But I'll show her.

She wants to keep controlling everything around me?

Fine.

But she can't control my therapy sessions with Dr. Kincaid.

She has no power to cancel those.

I quickly sat up from the table once I was alone again, pulling my robe back on and sliding on my slippers.

I headed back to the locker room, quickly getting dressed again so I could walk over to the main building.

Now I wanted to do a session with Dr. Kincaid, and I sincerely hope Monroe hears about it.

It's unfair that she still watches me and controls so much, yet she ended this weeks ago.

Then again, she's always said she was content with watching me from afar.

I just figured her obsessive tendencies for me would fade.

Now I'm finding them to be annoying and hypocritical.

But of course, the other part of me burns up at the idea of her unable to leave me alone.

I need to fight it.

Desperately.

Or else I might end up back where I started.

I don't care what she says—we're not doing another arrangement.

I thought I could compromise on that, but these past two weeks showed me that I couldn't.

I mean, I could do the arrangement for years.

It's the after that I'm worried about.

If this is how I am after less than two months with her—how will I be after years?

I feel like I'm being tugged in one hundred directions all at once.

I don't want to get over her, yet I don't want another arrangement.

I like that she still obsesses over me, but it's also frustrating me.

I don't know what to feel right now, and I can't even fully talk about it in therapy.

Not even if I switched therapists.

I'm not risking the NDA I signed, so I'm basically alone in this unless I plan to talk to Monroe about it.

I wasn't even sure what to discuss in my therapy session with Dr. Kincaid.

I just knew I had to do this and prove that Monroe can't keep controlling everything around me.

I needed to regain my independence.

Since my massage ended before it could even start, I was early to my session with Dr. Kincaid.

I had to ask someone in the main building for directions to her office, considering I didn't know where it was.

I made sure to knock once I made it to her office, unsure if she had a patient right now.

I hope not, or this would be awkward.

I tried not to grow nervous as I waited for the door to open, remembering everything Monroe told me about Dr. Kincaid in those woods.

I seriously should've asked more questions.

Dr. Kincaid has always been so nice, too, but maybe it's all a front.

Maybe she wants me to trust her.

I quickly forced a smile when the door opened, revealing Dr. Kincaid.

Her brows were furrowed, clearly confused, given that she just saw me less than thirty minutes ago.

"The massage finished early," I explained, subtly glancing past her into the office. "Can we start now?"

Dr. Kincaid didn't hesitate to open the door wider, "Of course," she murmured, stepping aside, "Come on in."

I nodded, stepping past her and walking past the threshold of the office.

I noticed the grey couch by the wall first—along with the cushioned chair across from it.

There was also a desk near the cushioned chair, papers and various files spread messily across it.

It was the one thing she couldn't mirror from Monroe... the obsession to keep everything neat and intricately placed.

"How are you settling in?" Dr. Kincaid asked me as I sat down on the soft couch.

"Good," I lied, knowing the last few hours had been very confusing and left me past irritated.

But I couldn't exactly tell her why that is.

Or who caused my irritation.

"That's really good, Liberty," Dr. Kincaid said, sitting in the chair across from me.

My stare shifted down when she crossed her leg over her other, reminding me purely of Monroe.

She always sat like that—specifically, with her soft hands clasped in her lap.

I didn't want to look away from Dr. Kincaid's legs and inevitably meet her dark eyes.

I wanted to meet a pair of blue eyes.

I wanted everything to just be simple.

I yearned for it all to be okay again.

I'm so tired of fighting myself constantly.

Whether it's the urge to think of her or get over her.

I'm so fucking exhausted.

Not even just mentally, but emotionally.

Nothing feels right, and I swear it's a never-ending feeling.

"Liberty?"

I buried my face in my hands, letting out a deep sigh as I tried to cling to my sanity.

I couldn't look at Dr. Kincaid right now.

Not when all I see is Monroe within her.

Fuck.

"Sorry, I'm just..." I trailed off, letting out another deep breath, "I didn't sleep that well last night, and I haven't been eating well, and I'm just—I'm exhausted and I'm tired of pretending I'm not."

"Why do you have to pretend Liberty?" I heard her softly ask me. "It's okay not to be okay."

You need to work through it, Liberty. Not around it.

Her words echoed in my head, making me draw in an unsteady breath.

I can't do this right now.

I genuinely cannot.

"You're right," I forced out in a whisper, swallowing forcefully as I lifted my head from my hands. "Thank you," I mumbled, staring down at my lap as I fidgeted with my fingers.

"How long have you been pretending?" Dr. Kincaid asked, pushing the topic I no longer wanted to discuss.

I only wanted to lie in bed for a few hours.

"Just these last few days," I lied, forcing myself to look up from my lap, "But it's okay. Being away from Seattle is helping me so much," I added, even if it was far from true.

Nothing is helping.

It's only when I talk to Monroe that the noise fades, but she's the exact reason the noise is there to begin with.

"I find that hard to believe," Dr. Kincaid said, her voice softened with me, "What's going on, Liberty? You don't have to pretend in here."

I forced a smile at her words, shaking my head, "Nothing, I'm still working through the whole situationship thing and healing isn't linear," I quickly said, hoping we could just move away from this overall topic.

Dr. Kincaid nodded, but remained silent for a moment.

I could tell she still didn't believe me—even I didn't believe me.

I think she's trying to figure out if she'll push me further.

Monroe would push me further.

"I want to see you present at dinner tonight," Dr. Kincaid spoke again, making my forced smile falter, "They're making rigatoni."

I pursed my lips tightly together, wondering if Monroe was behind that, too.

She had to be.

I mean, out of all the meal choices? This is what we're eating?

I haven't touched rigatoni in two weeks because of her.

And I can't even look at a lollipop without feeling sick.

"I'll be there," I suddenly said, even if it was the last thing I wanted to do.

But considering I openly admitted my struggle with eating, I knew Dr. Kincaid wouldn't let me out of this one.

I would have to show up and force myself to eat.

I'll also have to share a meal with Monroe.

The first one in weeks.

Great.

Dr. Kincaid naturally shifted the topic between us, but I was already thinking about tonight, dreading every essence of it.

I guess this is me facing the worst part of it.