across the dresser and fell onto the floor. “Maybe,” he said gently, like trying to talk someone off the edge of a cliff, “we could think of something else to do.” Everything he said, no matter how innocuous, sounded like he wanted to make out with me. I felt like maybe my anxiety around people was because I’d never kissed anyone before, and that if I just did it, I’d calm down a little, stop being so strange. But I was just too much of a prude, I guess.
