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“It is,” she insists. “I’m earning more than any of my brothers. I’m successful. I’m good at what I do. But does that matter? No. No, it does not. According to them, I should be bending over backward to please a nonexistent husband. I should be the perfect example for a female. Achievements… what achievements? I should go put my baby maker to work.”
The words are crude, and her sadness makes her seem unbearably young and heartbroken.
I nudge her shoulder, murmuring, “I think you do a good job.”
She sniffles, giving me a watery smile, which instantly dissolves. “Tell that to the remaining finance department. I was cornered by a few who accused me of sleeping my way to the top since my job is still secure. After that, they started claiming if I were half as good at my job as I was at sleeping around, their friends would still have their jobs and they wouldn’t have to worry about theirs.”
My good humor disappears at the words she’s miserably spilling from her mouth.
“They said what?” My tone is thunderous.
She doesn’t answer, rambling on in a half-buzzed state. I’m forced to pay attention. “And the worst part is I’ve been stuck in a dry spell for over a year!”
I blink stupidly as she continues, “So, then I said, ‘I wish I had’, and now I wish I had just kept my damned mouth shut!” The last part ends on a wail.
I’m barely recovering from the shock of her revelation that she hasn’t had sex in over a year when the last part of the conversation throws me off, startling a laugh from me.
“Is that what you’re upset about?”
She looks so miserable I’m reduced to patting her on the back to comfort her. “There. There. I’m sure they won’t remember any of it in the morning.”
“This sucks.” She slouches against the couch. “I’m supposed to hate you, yet, here I am, spilling secrets to you.”
I follow her movement, propping my elbow on the back of the couch so my face hovers close to hers without it being awkward.
I’m feeling the effects of all that alcohol on an empty stomach. I reach out and pull off her glasses, wanting to see her eyes.
“You shouldn’t hate me.”
“Why not?” she retorts, not appearing bothered my actions.
“Because I have a sad story.” I grin.
After a moment, her lips curve i
nto a smile, then she’s laughing. If that’s not the most beautiful sound I have ever heard, I dazedly think.
She’s laughing hysterically, and my own shoulders shake at the contagious sound.
We’re both drunk and miserable.
I don’t know when we stop laughing.
I don’t know who makes the first move.
But suddenly, Lana’s mouth is on mine and I forget how to breathe.
6
Lana
It’s been a miserable evening.
My desire to be liked, to gain other people’s approval, is a hinderance, one of my biggest faults I can’t find a way to overcome. I know where this problem stems from. I took Psychology as a minor in college.
But when I find myself in Oliver’s company, the gorgeous man with a growling attitude, there is equality in the room. He doesn’t treat me like most of the men around me do. He regards me as an equal, challenges me, fights with me, and, when he’s wrong, he backs down.
My attraction to him is something I had sworn to myself I would never act upon, but seeing him like this, so human, I find myself slamming my mouth against his, suddenly wanting him with a desperation I can’t understand. Don’t want to understand.
