I think I’m gonna be sick. Really, truly puke as he stares at me in wonder. Because I see the questions in his eyes. Can feel them filling the room in wave after suffocating wave, worse than his anger was earlier. Still, it doesn’t prepare me for the first one that leaves his lips. The same lips responsible for this whole fucking mess. “What are you doing on Toppr?” I remain silent, willing myself to keep from opening my big fat mouth about why I’m on the gay version of Tinder.
