Kayla
I make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for myself and pour a glass of milk. Total comfort food. I sit at the table and force myself to take a bite of the sandwich then swallow the sticky bite down with a gulp of milk.
“Are you sick?” Ashley asks, coming into the kitchen.
“No.” I instantly start crying again.
“Oh s**t,” she says, abandoning her foray into the refrigerator to fly over to the table and sit beside me. “What’s wrong? Did you and Pavel break up?”
I shake my head. “No. I just miss him.”
She studies me. “This long-distance thing is tearing you apart, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. I think it’s just sub-drop, though.”
“What’s that?”
“Well, during an intense b**m scene, all these endorphins and feel-good chemicals dump, and you get the high from it. But sometimes
