It was not insomnia that was keeping me awake. It was just that my bunk bed was shaking rather violently at intervals. It wasn’t some boogeyman or a werewolf under my bed. Rather, it wamaybe Virgin making out with a chick. In France, in the middle of FUCKIN Paris.
I wasn’t jealous. No, I wasn’t. How can you be jealous when your best friend hooks up with a cute chick in the most romantic city in the world? Nope, not even a shred of jealousy. I guess I said no too many times in the last few sentences, didn’t I?