Silence trickles down the walls like syrup. Suddenly, I realize something: I don’t know what I want from him. He doesn’t know what to give me. We’re just two idiots who don’t know how love works. My throat feels like sandpaper. “Well, then. Figure it out.” He groans, rolling his neck. “Rory didn’t tell me about this bit.” “What?” He rises to his feet, shaking his head. “Nothing, baby.” I avert my eyes as he gets dressed, knowing that if I watch those biceps flex as he tightens his belt, I’ll be back face down on the bed, waving my ass in the air, and my monologue will have been pointless.
