Colin's phone went to voicemail six times before I gave up, and he didn't even read my texts.
I stayed up until one in the morning, lightheaded from exhaustion and too much beer on an empty stomach, and sick with worry and guilt and self-recrimination.
I'd pushed him too hard, on something he didn't want to do at all for about ten different reasons.
Losing my best friend over experimental sex would've been awful—though I truly hadn't ever thought it would come to that. Intimacy was intimacy, and we'd laughed off all kinds of weird shit over the past seventeen years.
But losing my best friend over not even having experimental sex? That seemed like…the worst of all possible worlds.
I finally crashed out, unable to bear sitting there and staring at the dark screen of my silent phone.
Something woke me some indeterminate time later, and I flailed up in a panic, tangling myself in my blankets and whacking something solid with my arm.
