Heady1:17 a.m. I'm on my kitchen floor with my back against the fridge, still in the dress from dinner. I stopped drinking at ten. I'm completely, horribly sober.
I've typed and deleted the message eleven times.
I send it.
"are you awake?"
The three dots don't come. Of course they don't. I pull my knees up and stare at the screen.
At dinner, when Nate said you and I should just date already, everyone looked at me. Everyone. And I heard myself say "I'd rather stay single forever" in a voice that wasn't mine, and the whole table laughed, and I couldn't look at you for the rest of the night.
I type again. My thumbs are shaking.
"I need to explain something. It's not what it sounded like. Can I come over?"
I put the phone face-down on the tiles and wait.
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