I tilted my head back, hating myself for feeling the way I did over a nineteen-year-old boy who didn't know his mind.
Thank goodness, there was no one in the humongous tiled space that served as the bathroom. I yanked a handful of facial tissue from a dispenser and blew my nose. Then I pressed another sheet under my eyes, trying not to smudge my eyeliner.
I dumped the tissue and turned toward the mirror, pulling myself up to stand straighter. After fussing with my hair, I reapplied wine-red lipstick and then practised a smile. I got my purse off the counter and sauntered to the door.
To hell with Malik.
If Cherise wanted him, she could have him because I'd had it with him.
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