“I left him,” I said. “After that night. I couldn’t even look at myself in the mirror. That was like, ten months ago. We’d only really been together a month or two, and I’d told him I didn’t really want sex and he thought it was weird but he said he was okay with it. And every time I’d hold his hand or hug him, he thought it was foreplay. He couldn’t understand it wasn’t anything more than just hand holding or hugging. It wasn’t a precursor to wanting more. And it messed with my head because I liked him. Well, I thought I did. He was smart and funny, but then I was scared to initiate any kind of contact. I wouldn’t hold his hand or touch him, even if I wanted to, because then he’d think it was foreplay. I lived with that kind of anxiety in my gut for weeks, just being around him, because he’d always ask if I’d changed my mind and I tried to tell him it wasn’t like that.”

He squeezed my hand. “It’s not like that.”

“But then he asked if I wanted to make him feel good. He said if I really liked him I’d want him to be happy, and I fucking believed that shit.” I shook my head. “I know better. I really do. But I was so caught up in him and he did things with me that he didn’t actually enjoy, like watching The Great British Bake Off, or going to local author readings, so surely I could do something for him, right?”

“Oh, Jordan…”

I nodded sadly. “I felt so dirty,” I whispered. “But it was consensual. I did agree to it, but the whole thing was awful. I left him after that.”

“I’m glad you did.”

I gave him a weary smile. “I know, right? I mean, I should have known he wasn’t the one for me. Because seriously, who doesn’t like The Great British Bake Off?”

Hennessy chuckled. “Only monsters and heathens.”