Tried to go to sleep but too much adrenaline. And the bed was spinning because . . . too much tequila. Oh wow, even my handwriting’s drunk. Will I even be able to read this in the morning? L is in town. Picked her up from the train station at 3 and she was hangry so we went straight to Picante for tacos and margaritas. Turned into a four-hour day-drinking situation, and then we came back here and made the tequila-soaked decision to open a bottle of wine, which I promptly spilled on my white shirt. I took it off as I ran for the sink. She came over to help, saying I needed dishwashing liquid and hydrogen peroxide, which of course I didn’t have, so we used salt because the internet said so. Anyway, the stain came out and . . . wow, I’m afraid to even write it down, because that will make it real. She kissed me. Or maybe I kissed her. But she definitely kissed me back. Finally, after all these years, it happened. And it was good. Really, really good. Gentle at first, but then she was the one who took it to the next level, pushing into me. When her hands started to explore, I was the one who stopped it. Like an idiot. And now of course I can’t sleep. Idiots don’t deserve sleep. They deserve to replay the entire scene over and over again, knowing it would have gone further. Imagining what we’d be doing right now. Knowing she’s in the next room, wondering what she’s thinking?

Well, I just got up the nerve to open my door under the guise of trying to convince her one more time to sleep in the bed instead of the pullout. She’s out cold. Lucky woman. Will she even remember in the morning?

Lindsay noticed that Hope’s handwriting became more even as she wrote. She was sobering up.

Maybe she’ll tap on my door in the middle of the night and slip in beside me. Or maybe in the morning, she’ll tell me that tonight was what she’d been wanting to do for years, too. But if I had to guess? She’ll laugh it off and blame the booze, and I’ll just play along like it’s mutual. And that is why I pulled away and ran to my dresser for a clean shirt, saying I was drunk and tired and needed aspirin, water, and sleep. The way she makes me feel scares me. And most of all, I don’t want to lose her. That’s what it comes down to. I’m that contestant on Deal or No Deal who’d rather keep the suitcase they have than go for the cool mil.