Ashley
I kissed him.
In front of the crowd, and half a dozen cameras.
I’m going to die. No—worse—I’m going to live, and some freshman’s gonna turn it into a t****k thirst trap.
With captions.
What the actual hell is wrong with me.
What the hell was I thinking?
I wasn’t. That’s the problem. I never am with him.
He touches me and my brain folds in on itself like a dying star. All sharp edges and gravitational collapse. Like there’s before Beckett and after Beckett and I never get to stay in the before, no matter how hard I try.
I fold myself deeper into this booth like I can physically escape through the cracked vinyl if I just sit low enough. I’m mauling the straw in my orange juice—haven’t taken a single sip. Just mangling it like it’s gonna fight back.
Seriously?
Who drin
