Chapter 18
The morning of the trip felt different before it even began.
The air in my apartment seemed too still, my clothes felt too tight on my skin, and every time I tried to focus on anything other than Quincy's words last night, I found myself worrying about thing I wasn't even supposed to be worrying about.
Like the way my choice of blouse hung a bit loose around my cleavage, would it come off weird even though it wasn't the first time I was wearing it? The way I spent a bit more time trying to make my ponytail have the sleekest finish, should I just have tied it up the way I always did? My makeup, did it look as soft as it always did or would he be able to tell that I might have used a lip color lighter than the shade I always used?
Why was I overthinking this so much?
Fucking Quincy, she caused this. She filled my head with nonsense. This was all her fault.
At least, that's what I tried to tell myself while adjusting my blouse for the third time.
