It gets hazy from here. I remember bending over the bed. His voice is gruff; his touch controlled but still rough. Crystal clear in my mind, though, is the sound of each thread separating from the next. Later, I squeal or sass or do something vaguely babygirl-esque.
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I thought I was in the clear after finishing with the musical, but lo and behold, one of the only things I had to do in the play was dance. And I of course sucked at it. Not only did I have to focus on keeping my steps in time with the music, I was still super uncomfortable around girls, and waltzes involve hands on bodies. The girl I was dancing with had to practically force my hand up to her waist, my face red as a tomato.