“What?” I asked. “You should probably . . .” He gestured to my bedroom, seeming embarrassed. “Did I do something wrong?” “No,” he said quickly, desperate to save me from the same humiliation he felt. “I’m not . . . prepared.” “Oh.” I blinked, waiting for the realization to hit. When it did, my eyes widened. “Oh.” “Yeah. Sorry. I didn’t realize that was an option.” I tried not to smile but failed.
