“I don’t even like intercourse.
“Only fucked twice in four years.
“Probably not even good at it.
His faint smile has shock and confusion stamped all over it.
“And kissing?” I scoff. “Last time I kissed anyone—reallykissed?Eightfuckin’ years ago.”
He tips his head, shaking it.
“Nah—”
“Yeah. And no, I’m not asexual.”
My chest rises as I try to calm my next breath.
“But then you happened…” I say on exhale.
Silence crashes down,
and the wind pulls at my hair.
We stare,
his eyes pinning me to the skyline,
and nerves spread andspread.
“And you—you’re the first time my chest fuckin’ shook.” My shoulders lift. “So yeah, all the shit I never cared about before?
“I wanted it.
“Every second of it.
“With you.
“But you got no idea what it took just to show up tonight. I—” I start to say, then laugh. “No shit—I called my friend’s therapist, pretended I was her, just to get some fuckin’ advice.”
I turn halfway,
my hand pushing through my hair,
my other coming over my mouth
to get me to shut the fuck up.
“I can’t believe I’m sayin’ this shit out loud.”
An empty laugh leaves me.
It's hollow—the shell of one.
“I walked out at Type ‘cause that's what I do—I leave first. And I walked back in ‘cause my chest—it’s still fucking shaking. But the walking back in part?” I cock a brow. “That was a mistake, Drew.”
He tries to look away but can't for more half a second. His eyes drag back to me, jaw lit silver by the moon.
“I should’ve never given you my number.
