AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Why do you do it? The sleeping around, I mean.”
Her question was like a bucket of cold water, and he laid back down on his side of the wall. Where he belonged.
Her face appeared above the pillows. “Sorry if that’s a shitty question.”
He shook his head. “It’s not. I’m just thinking about how to answer.” He sighed and tried to collect his thoughts, wanting to be honest with her. “It started in high school, after my mom died. I was just looking for . . . something. Comfort, I guess, or maybe a distraction. I liked the chase, liked how it felt. How it made me feel.” He glanced up at her. “Liked the sex, and making someone else feel good. It just . . . became a habit, I guess. Part of who I am.”
She made a soft murmuring sound. “And you’re happy with that?”
He opened and closed his mouth, struggling with what to say. If he said no, that he wanted something different, that meant opening himself up in a way he wasn’t sure he was comfortable with. But if he said yes, he’d be lying.
“Because if you’re not, it doesn’t have to be that way, you know,” she said. “You can be and do whatever you want, regardless of what happened in the past.”
He blew out a long breath. It wasn’t that simple. “Change is hard, Car. Bad habits are hard to break.”
“That doesn’t mean you just resign yourself to them, though, if you really want to change them.”
He stared up at the ceiling, not saying anything, feeling like a jerk. Although change was never easy, she was right. He wanted more out of life than just a string of one night stands. A lot more. “But say I did want to change,” he said slowly. “Maybe I don’t even know where to start.”
He could feel her eyes on him. “They say that insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. So, I guess the first step would be to try something different. Take a new path, if that’s what you want.” She paused. “Is that what you want?”
He sighed, avoiding her question as he felt the knot of confusing emotion pull at the center of his chest. “What if I try to be different and I can’t do it?” He levered back up onto his elbow. “What if I hurt someone in the process? What if . . .” He shrugged.
“Someone hurts you,” she finished for him. She propped her head up on her hand and stared at him for a long minute. “You’re scared. You don’t like that your family sees you as a slut because you want more for yourself, but you’re scared to get hurt. Scared you might hurt someone else.”
He was a nail, and she was the hammer who’d just hit him right on the head with the truth. And he wasn’t sure which scared him more: getting hurt, or hurting someone else. Both made his stomach churn uncomfortably.
“This is a super fun conversation,” he grumbled, picking at a loose thread on one of the pillows between them. “Enough about me and my fucked up . . . whatever.” He leveled his gaze at her. “Since you’re in a caring and sharing mood, let’s talk about you.”
“Oh, yay,” she said drily, but stayed where she was, head resting on her hand.
“So, Dr. Mike, huh? Seems like kind of a dick to me.” And a blind one with bad taste if he found Carly lacking, but Dean kept that part to himself, surprised at how strongly he felt that way.
She laughed. “I guess. He didn’t at the time. And he met a lot of my ‘Carly needs a man’ criteria.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You have a list?”
“Well, it’s not so much a list as a set of desirable traits that . . . okay, yeah. It’s a list.”
“And what’s on this list? Tell me about Carly’s perfect man.”
“No. And it’s not about being perfect, it’s about being compatible with me. Because I’m awesome. I just need to find someone whose awesome works with mine.”
“You are,” he said, and her eyes met his. “Awesome, I mean. Come on. What’s on the list?”
She shrugged, her shifting legs making the mattress vibrate beneath him. “You know, typical stuff. Smart, kind, financially stable.” She nibbled on her lip again, and Dean felt the sudden urge to join in, fitting that lip between his, discovering its taste and texture. “Good in bed, good sense of humor.”
Something stilled in Dean, and while he didn’t like to brag, he knew that he fit all of those criteria. But he’d be a damn fool to let himself go there, because he couldn’t give her what she wanted. What she deserved. Even though he checked every single box on her list, he knew, deep down, that he wasn’t the man for her. He wasn’t ready for . . . for whatever came next when a manwhore decided his whoring days were over. He’d only hurt her, and the idea of hurting Carly . . . no. Bad, bad, bad idea.
He cleared his throat softly, sinking further into his confusion. “And what does this ideal man look like?”
“What he looks like isn’t as important as who he is.”
“So, he could be bald, with a beer belly, copious back hair, and missing a few teeth, and that’d be okay with you?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.
“Well, no, but I—”
He cut her off. “So it does matter. At least a little. Come on. What’s your type, Car?”
