48. COLD LUST.

MIA’S POV My alarm went off, loud, tearing through the quiet of my room. It took me a second to remember where I was. California. My bed. My reality. It felt like forever since I’d heard that sound. “Ugh, what a disaster of a morning,” I groaned, my voice rough and thick with sleep. The sunlight flooded through the window too bright. I threw an arm over my face, cursing myself for forgetting to close the curtains last night. The universe clearly enjoyed mocking me. After a sluggish shower, I padded across the cold floor, still half-asleep. I stopped in front of the mirror and tied my hair into a messy bun with a flowery clip, wincing at my reflection. “I hate Mondays,” I muttered, glaring at my own tired face. “Hate them, hate them, hate them.” My pale pink camisole clung softly to my skin, light and airy against the morning chill. The white ruffled skirt I paired it with brushed against my knees. A little too cheerful for my mood. I smoothed it down anyway. I tossed my essentials