fourteen.

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JULIET COULD barely open her eyes, the sun streaming in from her window a rude awakening. Her head pounded as a result of her poor choices from the night before. The night before.

Her eyes whipped open, searching for any indication that what had happened last night was real. Yet, her eyes met an empty bed and her hand was undamaged. Had she really dreamt everything? Was she that desperate?

Her hand lifted toward her lips, touching them delicately as she visualized everything that happened. It couldn't have possibly been a dream, everything felt so real. She could remember the touch of his lips on hers, the warmth from his hand on her cheek as he pulled her closer.

She could remember making a note of the golden flecks in his eyes as she flickered between them and his lips.

Sighing, her hands searched the bed for any warmth that could indicate the driver had laid in them, yet, she came up short. The floral printed sheets to her side had remained just as they were the previous night, clean and untouched.

Juliet could only groan at her own mind, frustrated that she had imagined such a detailed dream about the man she supposedly had no feelings for. What was wrong with her? 

She removed the duvet that covered her body and shifted herself into a sitting position on her bed. Her hands rubbed aggressively against her face, wiping any trace of sleep from her eyes. Her mind wandered to her phone, remembering she had supposedly messaged him last night.

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