“I slept with James.” “What?!” Lindy’s screech is ear-splitting and makes me realize what I’ve said or more how it sounds. “Like, in a bed.” “Winnie! I don’t need details!” I slap a hand to my forehead. “No! I’m not saying this right. What I mean is we slept in the same bed. Just for the sleeping. Not the sexing.” Hi. I’m Winnie. I’m twenty-eight, and I just referred to sex as The Sexing. I need more sleep or more coffee. Maybe more of both.
