How Can We Go Back to Being Friends. When We Just Shared a Bed?

I stare at the ceiling, my mind racing. Demitra shifts beside me, her bare shoulder brushing mine, and I squeeze my eyes shut. Maybe if I pretend to be asleep, I won’t have to deal with this yet.

I let out a breath, turning my head to look at her. Her hair is a mess, her lips still swollen from last night, and the lazy smile on her face makes my stomach twist.

“This was a mistake,” she says, even though part of me isn’t sure I believe it.

I swallow hard. I don’t have answer.