I’m not sure what came over me last night when I asked her to stay. No. That’s not true. I know exactly what I was thinking. I was thinking that I liked that she’d cooked for me. I liked that she’d laughed with me. I really liked what she’d let me do to her afterward. Having her with me after a long fucking week of work had felt good. More than good. I hadn’t wanted that feeling to go away. I hadn’t wanted her to go. And I don’t know what the hell to do with that.
