Chapter 5
When I woke up alone, I found it difficult to parse reality from what had surely been a wine-fueled fantasy. Wriggling upright in the vast marshmallow bed, I recognized the room—the dark wooden accents, the detritus of a table for two on the balcony, Joaquin’s jacket rumpled in a chair. So dinner had actually happened, and taking a guy the size of Joaquin for the first time was not the kind of thing a guy’s body let him forget. But I couldn’t clear the smell of Colin’s cologne from my nose. The empty cake plate was upturned near the foot of the bed, and the sheets were prickly with crumbs, which seemed to indicate my memories of shoveling cake into Colin’s face while Joaquin churned him like butter were also based on a true story. Had I also then c*m in Colin’s ass just as Joaqu
