No wait, he’s actually pushing back. He shoves me off him. “What the hell are you doing?” I blink. What am I doing? So many things run through my head that I could say. It seemed like a good idea. I liked kissing you and wanted to do it again. What comes out is not as clear. Or rational. “You’re not a potato.” You’re not a potato? What the fuck? “What?” “Nothing.”
