Summary:

Shane stares down at his phone screen in utter, abject horror. He doesn’t know what happened. How his thumb managed to slip and hit send. He was backspacing—he’s absolutely positive he was backpacking—because no way in hell would he have actually sent a message to Rozanov whining about the fact that they didn’t kiss. There’s no reality in which that makes sense and doesn’t make him look like an idiotic, obsessive, overly attached freak.