. I think we should go home."She looked at me shocked, probably about how straight I was."There's not even an option? I mean, wouldn't you even let me...try to like the real you?" Tears were forming a pool in her eyes and that was breaking me apart. I knew I'd screw things up eventually. Even when it is not me, it is about me."I don't think I could afford to lose you if you don't like what you see," I answer, and it's the truth."Let me try..." She starts saying but I shush her with the tip of my. The last big bash of the summer. Another evening of frivolity at Hank Beckworth’s Ipswich cliffside manse, where inevitably, one of the happy revelers would win the lottery. One day the winner would be Felicia herself, and she had hours upon hours to dread the possibility. In the meantime, she had to get herself as drunk as possible. She studied the empty margarita glasses, tried to sit up to reach the pitcher and salt, and fell back into the steamer chair with a groan, knowing she was not. More

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