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BITTERSWEET PART 3: ARMATA AND CALISTA

Calisa

Packing is a drill I’ve gotten down to an art, zipping up my suitcase in the silence of my room that buzzes with a quietness I don’t usually get to enjoy. The suitcase, all sleek corners and polished leather, seems like overkill for just a week away.

But then again, my life’s always been about overkill, hasn’t it? Especially with Armata lurking around, that constant, shadowy presence I’m finally getting a break from.

I don’t even know why I think of him now. Maybe it’s because he’s been a little less... Armata-ish lately. I barely notice him anymore. It’s like he’s there but not there, a ghost I’m constantly aware of.

It’s unnerving, like the memory of walking in on him in the gym, that night when I couldn’t peel my eyes off the sheer force he’s made of. I mean, the guy is built like a literal God, and I stood there like a deer in headlights. Pathetic, right?

I tell myself to knock it off. To stop thinking about the ripple of muscles, the sheer physical power of him. It’s no
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Comments (1)
goodnovel comment avatar
Jessica Pye
Heeeere we go!!! Ughh I knew her walls would crumble eventually, nothing like a little death scare to break the mold. I love these short stories! ♡♤♡
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