The next morning, I wake up with the worst hangover, and no amount of greasy food or pain relievers can fully cure it. I haven’t made myself sick from drinking in years, so I’m still shocked about what happened. Part of me wishes I blacked out because I remember the conversation Lorenzo and I had right before I told him to pull over, and I’ve been suffering from an ache in my chest whenever I think of him since. You were too much for me, Lorenzo said, driving a knife through my already-bleeding heart. What utter bullshit. I’ve heard a variation of those words before from past men I’ve dated,
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