"Drew, c'mon," Calvin's pleading voice said from the other side of the bathroom door. "Can you open the door? You can't stay in there forever."

At some point, when my pathetic whimpers had died down to pathetic labored breathing, Calvin planted himself on the other side of the door and began his attempts to coax me out. They were progressively getting less sugar coated, and I couldn't blame him. I didn't want him to be on the receiving end of my downward spiral. But our exchange awakened something in me. I couldn't explain it to him if I tried. I didn't understand it myself.

I was sitting on the edge of the bathtub. I was paralyzed in my embarrassment. How was I supposed to walk out and face him, after what I did? I've done a lot of humiliating things in my life (90% of them are crying related) but this one definitely tops the list.

All I wanted was to go home. I didn't want to talk about it. I didn't want to walk out there and pretend it was okay, or worse yet, see him and break down again. I just wanted to go home.

That urge was strong enough for me to say something. It would be something selfish and unhelpful to him, but at least he'd know I was still breathing.

"Can you get my phone?" I asked. The moment it left my mouth I wished I would have cleared my throat first. My voice sounded so weak. I hardly recognized it.

"Will you let me in if I do?" He retorted. I could picture his skeptical face and crossed arms. It was almost comforting.

"Sure." I'll have to, to get my phone.

I listened to his footsteps retreat and then return. He was quick. Clearly very eager.

He knocked on the door twice and said, "Delivery."

I felt like a weighed a million pounds as I dragged myself up and over to the door. I took a deep breath (and a glance in the mirror) to collect myself before swinging the door open.

Calvin's shoulders relaxed when he saw me. He held my phone out toward me and leaned against the door frame. I took it from his hands eagerly. I typed out the quickest S.O.S. message of my life before pocketing the phone and staring down at the floor. His eyes were boring into me. He was somehow more casual now than when I first got to his house. Maybe he grew to expect me to act crazy.

"You're really gonna leave me hanging, huh?" Calvin said. I was surprised by how calm he sounded. He should be mad. As if I hadn't put him through the ringer enough. "Can you look at me at least?"

I couldn't deny him that much. I managed to meet his eyes. He had a frown on his face I couldn't quite place. He simultaneously felt way too close, and impossibly far away.

"I would've waited on the other side of that door for centuries to make sure you were okay. That being said, thank fuck I can finally see your face." He leaned away from the door, but kept a hand on the frame as if to steady himself. "I am so sorry, Drew."

I paused. Is the room spinning? I thought, wasn't it my fault?

"I never meant to push you or make you uncomfortable. I promise, my intention wasn't to force you to do anything you didn't want to do. I care about you a lot. In the future, I swear I'll be more communicative so nothing like this ever happens again. That's assuming you want to see me again after this."

I should've said something comforting. I should have corrected him. He didn't force me, I initiated everything. I thought I knew what I wanted, but I didn't know anything.

I shouldn't have put either of us in that situation. It wasn't fair for me to hide from my problems with you, and it wasn't fair for me to push myself. I don't know why but something fired in my brain when you touched me and I want to hug you and tell you it wasn't your fault, but I need as much space as possible right now or I can't breathe.

I should have said that.

Instead, I stood there. He stared at me patiently, apologetically. I could practically see the halo over his head. I waited until I heard a honk outside, and I left the house without explanation.