Chapter 1I already know he wouldn’t come at three minutes past nine. He’s always obsessively on time for these…hookups? meetings? f**k sessions?…as though he’s trying to make up for the perceived inexactness of his chosen profession, a meteorologist, by being a picture of reliability. I think I knew he wouldn’t show up when I texted him I’d be late—he doesn’t appreciate last-minute changes of plans, and for a moment or two, I considered heading straight home after a long day at work—and I definitely know now, when it’s been over half an hour.
And yet, I can’t make myself stand up and walk out of here. It’s been far too long since I got to lose myself in his touch, since I buried myself in his body, and allowed myself to nurture my vain hope that our relationship will develop into somethin
