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“How long have you been together?”
“Since sophomore year of college.”
I whistle long and low. “That’s a long time.”
They started dating around the same time I left for Anaheim. It seems like another lifetime when I attended college. So much has happened since then.
“About the same amount of time that you’ve been a fuckboy,” she snarks, grinning at me. “Oh, wait. You’ve been a fuckboy much longer.”
“You say it like it’s a bad thing,” I counter, glancing at her with a smirk.
“Isn’t it?”
“I guess it depends on the day.” I chuckle, my mind momentarily shifting to the GM’s daughter. “So … you’re a relationship girl.”
“I enjoy being with one man if that’s what you mean,” she admits. “I never was one to sleep around, not even when I could. It didn’t seem fun to me, being vulnerable like that with a stranger.”
“Huh,” I say, mulling over her words.
Her head rotates until she’s looking at the side of my face. “What?”
I turn to meet her stare. “You’re equating sex with vulnerability. I’ve never looked at it like that before.”
She rests her head against the wall and glances at the sky again with a soft grin on her face. “Maybe it’s a girl thing, but, yes … having sex is like giving a piece of yourself to someone. It is to me at least. And I never desired to do that with a bunch of nameless, faceless strangers.” She pauses for a few beats. “What’s it like?”
“Sex with strangers?” I ask.
She nods.
“It’s like chasing a release while not giving a piece of yourself to the other person.”
“Isn’t it empty?” She asks the question like she really wants to know the answer.
“I haven’t really thought about it. But in truth, I never think about the women much beyond the door slamming behind them as they leave.”
“That’s kind of sad,” she murmurs. “For the women, I mean.”
“I guess. But it’s only sad if they go into it wanting more.”
“Don’t most people go into it wanting more?”
“Not me,” I answer immediately.
It’s easy to be open with her because she’s not judging me. She’s genuinely interested in my perspective.
She nods and stays quiet for a bit before making a confession. “I don’t think I should be with Eliott anymore.”
“Why not?” I ask. “You want to experience all that nameless, faceless sex that’s out there?”
“No.” She laughs, shoving my shoulder. She grows serious again. “When someone says they want to marry you, it should make you happy. Excited. Instead, I panicked.”
I stay silent and wait until she continues.
“I never felt the butterflies and fireworks that people sing about and write about in books. Not even from the beginning.” She glances at me. “Have you ever felt that before?”
“Once,” I admit honestly, thinking about Oakley. “But I was young and didn’t appreciate it at the time.”
“Timing is everything,” she murmurs.
