When she woke up the next day, the bed was empty except for her.
Lazy and sluggish, she turned over, her waist—overused by Trenton Smith—let out an unbearable "crack." Norris Moore winced and supported her waist as she sat up on the bed.
Early morning, sunshine ablaze.
Golden light streaked across the pristine tiled floor, and the faint, elusive scent of lemon-based air freshener lingered in the air.
Norris reached out to touch the place where the man had slept, but it had already cooled.
It seemed Trenton had left quite some time ago.
Leaning against the headboard, she raised her hand and rubbed her temples, feeling somewhat annoyed.
She could distinctly recall him saying last night that he'd explain it to her today, but had he lied? Vanished without a trace first thing in the morning.
Norris grumbled to herself helplessly before struggling to get out of bed and heading to the bathroom for a shower.
