I turned on my heel and marched toward the tent. Coffi and Latte followed like smug little shadows. Inside, I caught sight of myself in the small travel mirror—And screamed. Internally. My hair was a disaster. A battlefield worse than last night's. Tangled. Flattened on one side. Wild on the other.
My face—Oh gods. Puppy face. Sleepy eyes. Puffy cheeks. Eyebags so dramatic they deserved their own continent. "NO," I said out loud. "Absolutely not."
I spun around. "Comb. Now."
Latte was already moving. Coffi too. "We must prepare you," Latte said gravely, as if I were going to war. "Breakfast is imminent."
"Why would breakfast require—"
"You cannot face Sir Alex like this," Coffi interrupted calmly.
"I AM NOT—" I stopped. Exhaled. "I don't even know if the kiss was real."
Latte gasped again. "A KISS?"
"YOU DIDN'T SEE ANYTHING, IT WAS JUST A DREAM!" I snapped.
