He got out of the car, and I stared at his chest as he spoke because I couldn't see his face.
"I'm not paying for your services."
"I know," I laughed.
"I'm such a man-whore."
"Good night." I didn't hear a response, just the slam of the car door, so I drove home. Maybe I should have said, "No, you're not. If anyone's a whore here, it's me." I could have said, "No, we're just two very young, commitment-phobic, and oversexed individuals who found each other." But I was exhausted, and I didn't want to think about pre-cum sperm, or being pregnant, or even seeing him again.
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