I had a lump in my gut, an ache in my chest, and my eyes burned, so I rolled onto my side and cried myself to sleep.

“I kissed him.”

Merry stared at me. We were in the staffroom. She’d come bounding in, all excited for gossip of how my night ended up with Hennessy. She took one look at me and dragged me into the corner; her smile was gone, replaced by pure concern.

“I thought you were both okay with kissing,” Merry asked gently.

“I am,” I said. “He is.” God, I felt nauseous.

“So what went wrong?” Merry pressed. “Did he want more?”

I tried to swallow, but my mouth was too dry. I shook my head instead. “No. I did.”

Merry blinked and I could see it on her face as she tried to get the pieces to fit. “What?”

“I did,” I repeated. “I ravaged his face like an alien face sucker and I pulled him close and I’m pretty sure I moaned and that’s not even the worst of it because I think I wanted more.” God, I was actually going to vomit. “So of course I freaked the fuck out and he got an emergency work phone call, but he was trying to ask me what was wrong, but how can I tell him that?”

“Tell him what?” Merry asked.

I gaped at her. “Have you even been listening?”

She did that patiently not-sighing thing she does. “Jordan, what can’t you tell him?”

“That I’m not what he wants. He said, pretty much from day one, very clearly, he only wants to date asexual guys.”

“And?”

My eyes burned again with tears. “And I’m not.” I tried really hard not to cry, but my chin did that wobbling thing and I waved my hand at her, trying to stave off my emotions. Which was futile. “I thought I’d found where I belong, ya know? I thought I’d found who I was, who I really was. But then my body betrayed my brain and I basically ran out the door. Fucking hell, Merry. You should have seen the look on his face.” I pushed my hand against my stomach, my eyes burned with tears. “I feel ill.”

Merry put her hand on my arm and looked me dead in the eye. “You need to speak to him.”

“What am I supposed to tell him?”

“The truth.”

“I don’t want him to end this.”

“So you want him to think you’re ending it?”

“What?”

“What do you think he’s feeling right now?” She did her real-talk eyebrow thing. “He’s probably at work wondering what the hell he did wrong. He’ll be so confused. At least you know what the issue is. He has no clue. How can you expect him to fix something if he doesn’t know what’s wrong?”