Noah
I don't sleep. I lie there most of the night replaying it, the kiss, the way his hands felt against me, the way every rational reason I gave for calling it a mistake felt thinner and thinner the more I tried to convince myself of it. Around three I get up for water I don't actually want, mostly just an excuse to move, to do something with the restless energy still buzzing under my skin, and I stop outside his door longer than I mean to before I lose my nerve and go back to my own room instead.
By the time morning comes I've built the whole speech in my head, calm, rational, exactly what two responsible adults who made an emotional mistake should say to each other. I walk into the kitchen ready to deliver it and find Ethan already there, coffee made, looking like he slept about as we
