I’ve thought of little else besides our little walk and it’s driving me crazy. I don’t have good luck with men. Actually, that’s an understate...ent. I’ve been with addicts, losers, abusers and suffocating romantics. I don’t trust anyone anymore, least of all myself.But when I peek through my peephole and see Graham standing there, I can’t help myself: I smile and blush. Drunken butterflies tumble through my stomach. I feel like I’m sixteen again, riding the back of Tom Daly’s motorcycle. Except. There was a rhythmic bouncing, or creaking, the type you’d expect to hear if someone was jumping on a trampoline. I laid in bed listening trying to figure out what it was, and where it was coming from. I thought maybe a neighbor’s house or yard, or even our yard, but I couldn’t pinpoint it. I eventually climbed out of bed, and left my room. Immediately I could tell that it was inside the house. I stood there a moment listening and took a step forward, it was coming from the living room. Most of. More

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