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67 — JULIAN ADAMS (POV)

I'm an idiot.

I wish it was just the hangover that's hammering in my head, but there's a damn nagging in my chest… a sick feeling that's been bittering my mouth all morning.

Because I know, I'm a fucking idiot.

I shouldn't have said it like that. My chest felt heavy. The weight of guilt seemed to steal the air from my lungs… but this pain isn't close to how it hurts seeing that expression on her face.

So I mulled over my words all day. I couldn't even focus on work. The meetings were a complete waste of time, as I don't remember anything that was said… I just keep remembering how Angelee looked at me when I said those damn words.

It's been less than 24 hours, and I'm already regretting so much that I can't even stand still. I needed some excuse to see her, anything… I didn't care about the report, I just wanted to be close to her. But I messed up again.

Why is it so hard to act rationally?

When did it become so hard to
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