"I guess I'm curious," I say instead. "About myself. About why I do the things I do."

He leans back in his chair, studying me. "That's a good place to start. So let's start there. Why do you think you ended up at that party?"

"Because I was invited?"

"Sloane."

I love when he says my name like that. Like he's scolding me but trying not to smile.

"Fine," I sigh. "I don't know. Boredom? FOMO? Because everyone else was going and I didn't want to be the loser sitting in my apartment on a Saturday night?"

"Do you often feel like you have to do things to avoid being...