“There’s nothing to do.” Well, aside from sulking and wallowing in shame. “I doubt he’ll ever speak to me again after Saturday night.” The realization hurts more than it should. I reach for my lukewarm coffee and take a sip, letting the dark roast soak into my tastebuds. “Or he’ll pursue you relentlessly because he wants another taste of your sweet virgin nectar.” I choke, coffee halfway down my throat, and spray French roast all over the table. “You cannot say shit like that when I’m drinking!”
