Zoe's POV:
I stood in front of my closet that morning, staring at it as if it were some unsolvable puzzle. My fingers gripped the edges of the wooden frame while my mind drifted far, far away—to last night, to Brandon's room, to the intensity of everything that almost happened.
I still felt the warmth of his hands on my waist.
I still felt the breathless shock of being shoved into his closet.
I still felt my pulse stumbling out of rhythm when Margaret's fingers hovered over the closet handle.
God.
I almost died.
What would have happened if she had opened it?
What would I have done if she had seen us—seen me—like that?
And what… what would have happened between Brandon and me if she hadn't interrupted?
Somehow that last thought hit stronger, overpowering the others in my head.
That kiss.
That kiss was too much—too intense, too real, and too consuming. It was like standing too close to fire and pretending I wasn't being burned.
