“Fuuuck … Emma,” he groans, dropping his face into his hand and rolling onto his back away from me. It sounds like he’s asking God for strength as he pushes up and moves away entirely, jumping to his feet and stalking off toward the bathroom to deal with the condom. I turn away; I don’t want to see him naked. Not now, not ever again.

The beginnings of a panic attack overwhelm me. I leap up, fully submerged in emotional madness and regret, and run to my room. I slam the door, ...