My lips twitch at her sassy reply, and her ocean eyes instantly clock that, mirth dancing in her eyes as she gives me a secretive wink.
My own eyes basically fall out of their socket at her boldness. Not wanting her brother to catch me gawking at her sister, I slide my eyes from her lean figure to the glasses on the table.
But even they betray me as they go back to her, greedily drinking in her brunette hair in a braid as wavy strands frame her soft features. Light dancing in her eyes brightens the gloomy atmosphere with her humor.
Everyone is busy talking to her, laughing with her.
But all I can do is stare. Stare at the woman who jump-started my dead heart as soon as she walked inside this bar, but the one I can never even touch.
The woman who also happens to be my friend’s sister. The friend who just issued a decree declaring her off-limits.
It’s not like I’ll ever be with her or anything. I don’t do dates or love or fuckingfeelings. They were stolen from me a long time ago, and I’d never want to put any woman throughme, and my aloofness.
Even if the forbidden fruit beckons me likeThisbebeckonedPyramus. Theirs was an ill-fated story—a story that taught me never to choose what the heart wants.
Especially when it gleams as deliciously as she does.
One
Andie
“Go get yourself a dick that knows how to give orgasms and makes you forget your own damn name until you settle down, baby,” the‘Always Pleasure First’podcast host blares from my phone’s speaker.
If only.
Snorting at her enthusiasm, I let the last of the curls drop on my shoulder, switching off the curling iron.
“It doesn’t matter what the world thinks if you don’t even recall when you fall asleepat night. They’re just jealous because all they have is their hand to keep them company,” the woman continues as I wonder which side I lie on: the one getting the action or the one getting jealous.
Probably the latter.
“Amen,” I mutter under my breath as I give myself a once-over in the vanity mirror. The teal dress flaring below my hips as I smooth it down with my hands, sucking in a breath and hoping it’d make me take up less space.
I shake my head and let out a sigh. It’s been a bad habit of mine—worrying about my weight and how curvy I look. I haven’t always been like this. However, after I entered college, I began to gain weight, and my once lean figure transformed into a curvier one. I was even removed from my cheerleading squad for that very reason. That, too, in front of a guy I had been dating for a month. It’s safe to say that he found a leaner girl within the next hour.
I’ve spent countless hours crying and in therapy trying to make myself understand that it’s okay if I’m fat, if I take up more space, if I’m not what society labels as the ‘ideal’ woman. However, one comment, made in passing, undoes all that progress.
Most of the time.
I’m getting better now. I recite affirmations to myself in the mirror every day. And right now, when I look at myself in the mirror, I feel beautiful. A smile takes over my face when my best friend, Aurelia’s voice, rings in my ear. If she were here to see me, she’d say,‘Chin up, girl. Look at you being a woman on a mission to wipe out the world with your sexiness.’
The smile turns into full-blown laughter when the podcast host continues to say, “Smother yourself in balls or pussies for all I care. But don’t forget you gotta keep feeding your couchie at all times.”
“Damn, I love her,” I mumble to myself as I grab my phone to leave before I overdo fashionably late.
I wish I were this confident. Switching the podcast off, I tuck away my phone in my purse, but not before taking a selfie and sending it to Aurelia and Kaeli in our group chat.
Kaeli Reed, my brother’s fire-spitting and boss of a girlfriend, has been such a great addition to our circle. I love her. Though Aurelia and Kaeli have yet to meet face-to-face, they’re already hitting it off in the texts.
With a final glance in the mirror, I’m out the door of my two-bedroom apartment and in the elevator. I could never afford to live in Central Boston with my elementary school teacher’s salary. I even lived on the outskirts for a few months. But that proved too difficult for me. The travel alone consumed so much of my time and energy that I couldn’t focus on my students.
So, when Ezra, my brother and captain for the Boston Bandits, offered to buy me a place closer to my school with his hefty NHL salary for the umpteenth time, I couldn’t deny it. I’m saving up money to buy this place from him one day; he doesn’t know it, though. He’d burst a vein if he found out.
The elevator opens on the first floor, and I walk out of the building into the pleasant spring night. The cool air winding my dress. I love spring—the start of something new and beautiful. It’s like everything comes to life.
When I glance up at the sky, it doesn’t feel like it’ll rain, so with a hopeful smile, I head over to the restaurant where I’m meeting my date. Thankfully, it’s just a fifteen-minute walk.
I love living in Boston. The hustle and bustle of the city makes me feel less lonely. The peoplewalking past with their own complicated lives.