I WAKE UP FLOPPED ACROSS THE BACK OF A FUTON MATTRESS, the fitted sheet strangling my waist. The pixie-haired girl is across the room leafing through last month’s Wired. She’s wearing what look like little kid Underoos with a batman decal across the crotch, baggy tank over top. She hands me a glass of water and puts her finger to her lip. “Annalisa’s asleep.” It’s hard to guess her age.
“We left you prone so you wouldn’t –” She makes deep gurgling sounds in her throat. “Your cell’s in the hall basket. You kept waking up and texting super loudly. We turned it off when you passed out.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s Luz that needs an apology.”
Shit.
“Mostly you were telling her you loved her. Breakups suck.” She sits opposite me and does the splits, stretching sideways to her left toe. I stare at the f
