“Okay.” I wriggled out of his embrace, slid out of bed, and stood up. “If you need me, I’ll be at home dying of embarrassment. Tell my parents to get a nice headstone. Gray marble, something like that.” “Wait. Can we talk about this, please?” He reached over and gently grabbed my hand. Humiliation simmered in my gut, caustic and searing, threatening to boil over. I spun around to face him, cheeks scorching. “Why do you even like me if you know this?” “What?” Hurt flashed across his face, and his lips tugged into a frown. “I like you for a million reasons, and none of them have to do with sex.”
