: Chapter 7

Kimmy Park and I have known each other since first grade. Back then, she was obsessed with a boy in our class named Jamie Jessop and followed him around like a puppy, trying to get him to kiss her. Being a seven-year-old who was more interested in collecting Pokémon cards than having a girlfriend, poor Jamie was horrified. The only way she could have gotten his attention was if she’d dressed up as Pikachu and yelled, “I choose you!”

We’re both in our early thirties now, but Kimmy still has the exact same approach to sex—if she sees someone she likes, she goes for it. Although she’s a lot more successful these days. Her whirlwind of a love life has always left me dizzy. It certainly helps that grown-up Kimmy is drop-dead gorgeous and ultra confident. She’s the kind of woman that makes members of both sexes go cross-eyed when she talks to them. We should all be more like Kimmy, I think as I sit opposite her in the latest bar to open in my neighborhood. I don’t fail to notice that only last night I was wishing I could be more like Emily, and now Kimmy—what is wrong with me? Why can’t I be happy just being Amelia?

Well, one reason is that Amelia’s no fun at all when compared with her alter ego. Scarlet has all the good times, all the orgasms. Amelia got stuck with a vague sense of discomfort as she was driven home by a stranger after spending the night with his boss. Amelia felt tacky and disappointed and a tiny bit cheap, even though she knew she had no reason to.

“Tell me everything,” Kimmy says, her eyes twinkling at me from across the table crowded with empty cocktail glasses. “I missed the wedding of the century last night because of work, and for once, it sounds like you’ve got some top-shelf tea. If I have to sit in this shit heap, you’re going to spill it all.”

“This isn’t a shit heap.” As I say it, I take stock of my surroundings and have to admit that the place is a bit rough around the edges. Despite being new, it still shows signs of the dive bar it was in a past life, and the waiter looked horrified when we ordered cosmos. Nobody has been by to collect our glasses, and the music being pumped out of the speakers sounds like a suicide playlist. “Okay, fair point. It’s not great. But it’s good to support new businesses, and we can’t all live in swanky apartments on the Upper East Side.”

“Girl, I was just giving you shit. I don’t care where we are. I grew up the same place you did, so you know I’m not a princess. And stop trying to change the subject. Time to tell me everything. You said there was a guy. I’ve been waiting years to hear there was a guy. Who was he, and how good was the sex? On a scale of one to ten?”

I sigh and bite back the huge grin that wants to take over my whole face. “On a scale of one to ten, it was like … a million. Kimmy, he was so hot! I mean, I don’t want to sound like⁠—”

“Me?”

“Yeah. But he was so hot, he could blister your skin just with a look. So hot he makes Death Valley seem cool. So hot you could fry eggs on his abs.”

“So hot he melted your panties off?” Clearly fascinated, she’s leaning forward now, her chin balanced on her steepled fingers. This is, after all, her favorite subject.

“Exactly that hot. I was sitting at an empty table at the back of the reception, and he just … appeared. Like some benevolent god decided to give me a break and sent Mr. Fire and Ice to seduce me. I still don’t know what came over me. It’s not like me at all.”

She shrugs. “What came over you is called being a woman, Amelia—a woman with needs. You’ve ignored them for way too long, and you spent years married to that selfish asshole. I’m guessing he wouldn’t recognize a clitoris if it was wearing a T-shirt that had ‘here I am, clit this way’ written on it in neon letters.”

I open my mouth to object, to defend Chad and his bedroom skills. But she’s absolutely right, and why the hell should I stick up for him? I owe him no loyalty at all, and besides, he was awful in bed. I never knew how awful until now because I had nothing to compare it to, but Chad does not come off well in that comparison. One night with Drake made me understand exactly how bad my married sex life was.

“Maybe you’re right. But having a spectacular one-night stand doesn’t mean I’m going to be living like that from now on.”

“Well, that’s disappointing.” She tilts her head and pouts at me. “I was hoping we’d get to have some fun together. There are two guys behind you who are definitely checking us out. They look like they’re in a band, which in my experience means they’re probably self-obsessed and have a tenuous relationship with personal hygiene, but hey, I have a generous spirit when it comes to love. We could go chat with them. Expand your number of lovers to a staggering three?”

The fact that I made it to my thirties having only slept with Chad is a source of constant amazement to her. “I don’t think so. I’m just not made like you.”

“More’s the pity. I have no shame—I enjoy sex and plan to have it with as many people as I can before I reach the stage where I need hip replacements and adult diapers.”

“Knowing you, you’ll still be on the prowl. Nobody in that day center will be safe.”

“This is true. But seriously, babe, didn’t this one magnificent night with a world-class sex god change your mind? There are other men out there, you know. Men who might be just as good in the sack.”

I blush, remembering exactly how good he was in the sack. And on the table. And the floor. He made me feel things I’ve never known before, and it seems crazy to think that I could win the sex jackpot like that again.

It’s enticing, but it would be reckless, and I have other, more important things to concentrate on in my life right now. It’s not all about chasing orgasms. I can give myself orgasms, even if they are tiny and kinda pathetic compared to the way Drake made me come. Gusts of wind as opposed to a hurricane. It has also occurred to me that I might not have the right temperament for this casual sex thing, because I haven’t stopped thinking about him all day.

“I don’t think so. I’m glad I met him and that I finally let go of some of my inhibitions and went a little wild. I’m glad he brought out that side of me, because it does seem ridiculous to have reached my age and never have had a one-night stand. But it’s not something I’m going to keep repeating. I can’t imagine it would be anything but a letdown with someone else, anyhow, and besides … it wasn’t entirely casual. There were feelings involved.”

“Ugh,” she says, shuddering. “Feelings? I hate those. They get in the way. Tell your Auntie Kimmy all about them, though, sweetheart.”

“I felt like … like we connected. Before the sex, we talked for hours. It was kind of like a confessional, you know? Soul sharing?”

“I don’t know, no, I’m glad to say. But I do know that stuff matters to most women. You’re sure he wasn’t just turning on the charm to get into your panties?”

I bite my lip and think about it. “You could be right, but I don’t think so. This guy … He’s not the kind of guy who needs to work that hard. He could get into pretty much any panties he liked with nothing but a smile. No, I think it was real. And we, uh, cuddled. After the sex.”

She finishes her drink, her eyes wide over the rim of the glass. “You cuddled? Girl, that is one of the saddest things I’ve ever heard.”

“No it’s not! And we only cuddled after we had super-hot animal sex, all right? And after I came four times.” I whisper that last part, glancing nervously around the bar before I drop my voice even lower. “And then we did it again this morning, on the breakfast table.”

“Oooh, now I’m interested. Did he do that hot thing where he swept everything off beforehand?”

I laugh, because that’s exactly what he did. It was insanely hot at the time, and it still makes me throb a little down below when I think about it. “Yep. He did.”

“So, how did you leave it? Did you swap numbers? Did you make him a friendship bracelet?”

I roll my eyes but don’t take it personally. She takes nothing seriously unless she absolutely has to. “We didn’t swap numbers, no. He was … He was different by the time I left.”

“Mr. Ice rather than Mr. Fire?”

“Exactly. He had to work, and he made it very clear that it was time for me to leave, and he kind of, well, shut down. It was weird.”

Kimmy shakes her head. “Babe, I think maybe you’re overthinking this. You had sex. It was a one-time thing. It was time to leave. This isn’t a love story—it’s a lust story.”

She’s right, I know. I shouldn’t waste any more time thinking about him.

“I know. I enjoyed it, and it was new for me, but I don’t think I’ll do it again. Maybe I’m just too soft. Maybe I’ll always want more. But hey, I’ve got it out of my system and now I need to concentrate on my real life. On my new job and my mom.”

Kimmy’s expression becomes instantly sympathetic. She’s known my mom since she was a kid and had endless dinners, sleepovers, and burned-waffle breakfasts at our place. My mom was always a terrible cook, but she made up for it with enthusiasm. “How is Edith?”

“Not great, truthfully. She suddenly seems old, you know? And the good meds cost a fortune, hence the need to concentrate on the new job.”

My mom is only in her mid-sixties, and she was diagnosed with COPD years ago. She never smoked a day in her life, but thanks to the time she spent working in a plastics factory when I was younger, her lungs look like those of someone with a three-pack-a-day unfiltered-cigarette habit.

Her health has declined a lot recently, and moving back here after my split from Chad was a no-brainer. I need to be close by so I can help her as much as possible—or at least as much as she’ll let me. She hates having her daughter be her caretaker and insisted that I get my own place so she wouldn’t drag me down—her words, not mine. I would be happy to live with her, but it’s probably for the best that I have my own space. It allows me to hide how angry I get at the world for doing this to her. It just isn’t fair.

“You know I can always lend a hand with that. The meds, the cashflow. I may be a shallow-ass freak when it comes to romance, but friends are different, and you and Edith mean the world to me. Please don’t struggle when you don’t need to.”

Kimmy’s own childhood was chaotic, and our home was a refuge for her. I might never have known my dad, but my mom more than made up for it. She was always so cool, so kind, so completely there for me. She gave Kimmy a safe haven, and my friend has never forgotten. These days, she’s living her best boss life and has no shortage of financial resources. “I do know that, and thanks, Kimmy. If things get really bad, I’ll let you know, I promise. For the time being, though, she wants to stay as independent as possible.”

“Hmmm.” Kimmy cocks an eyebrow at me. “Sounds familiar—you’re exactly the same. Now, tell me more about your new job, then. Not as exciting as a man with a magic tongue, but I’ll take what I can get. It’s with a law firm, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. James and James.”

“Wow. Not just a law firm, the law firm! They’re massive, and very well respected. It sounds like a great opportunity for you.”

“It really does, doesn’t it? I’m so excited, but I’m a little nervous too.”

“You have nothing to be nervous about, babe. You’re a clever, well-educated woman with the most incredible organizational skills in the known universe. They’re lucky to have you.”

I’m not sure I’d go that far, but thinking about my new job feels a whole lot safer than thinking about the sex god who rocked my world on its axis last night. And again this morning. My future beckons, and I need to banish all thoughts of men I’m never going to see again.