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I still thought love was for suckers and relationships were an outlandish risk too treacherous to be worth the reward, but in spite of that, she was all I could think about.
All the time.
I’d even had the fleeting thought, while wrapped around her sleeping body at five thirty this morning post-shower, that it might not be so bad to explore a hybrid situation. Not a relationshipper se, but friendship with a side helping ofsomething more.Not romance, but sex that meant something.
And monogamy.
But I knew this made zero fucking sense. If I said those words to her, she would point out that I’d described a traditional romantic relationship.
Which I had.
And she would be goneso fast.
Regardless, I was just going to have to suck it up and ignore those feelings.
Easy peasy, right?
Sophie:Are you trying to get me to say that I love your penis?
I coughed out a laugh, which made Book Guy look up and smile at me like we were kindred spirits. I texted:You don’t have to say it. I could tell.
Sophie:I won’t commit to the L-word, MR. ARROGANT, even if it’s only in regard to genitalia, but I WILL openly admit to being obsessed with every single thing we did in that bed.
I scratched my eyebrow and felt her words in my chest. Texted:Hard same.
And then I wondered.
Could physical desire, and being denied what your body wanted, have the power to change—actuallychange—your emotions? Tomake you explore them a little more deeply? I thought about Soph’s interest in friends with benefits. I thought about the way she kissed me at Shirley’s and in the hotel stairwell.
There was no question that we wanted each other physically.
So if we shut that down completely, would Sophie be forced to recognize that she had emotions for me outside of sex?
thirty-four
Sophie
I told Larry(and Karen and Joanne) everything the minute I walked into the apartment.
Because for the entire flight home, including the extensive five-hour layover in Chicago, my brain had been filled with explicit images of Max. I couldn’t seem to think about anything but the things he’d said and done, both to and with me, so I needed to unburden myself if I was ever going to recover.
I sat down at the table and spilled it all, right down to my stairwell admission that I’d brought condoms with me to Detroit, and Larry got so pissed at me for not listening that he took the cats for a walk, leaving me alone in the apartment. (Rose was at a Nelly concert with her nephew.)
So I went for a run at eight p.m., hoping that would clear my head.
But ten minutes in, my phone buzzed.
Max:Did I just see you run by?
I looked over my shoulder but didn’t see him behind me.
I slowed to a stop, stepped over on the sidewalk, and texted:Where are you?
Max:On my balcony. I glanced down at the street and I swear to God you sprinted past me.
No way. I responded with:Which building is yours exactly?
I knew he said he lived pretty close to me, but I didn’t know precisely where.
