SO WHAT NEXT??

AMARA'S POINT OF VIEW. I let out a breath of relief as the tension in my spine disappeared into thin air. Slurping on my mango smoothie, I mused on the events of yesterday. If trauma had a smell, mine would be burnt toast and mangoes. I sat on the counter in one of Ace’s many hoodies, sighing at the delectable taste of the smoothie I cajoled him into making for me. The door clicked open, forcing me out of the daze I was in. I didn’t have to look up to know it was him; the air changed whenever Ace walked into a room. Less oxygen, more heat….or maybe that effect was something only I experienced. “You look like someone who just watched a horror film,” he said, voice dripping with lazy amusement, his lips pulled in his signature smirk as he walked over to me. His sweat pants hung lazily on his hips, his upper body bare so his properly chiselled abs were on display before me. “Or accidentally walked in on one.” I groaned, dropping my face into my palms. “Don’t. You. Dare. Speak. Of it.” Ace