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Entering the bathroom, I spot a sealed toothbrush that someone has left for me.
Okay. Seems like Evan was here at some point in the recent past and thought of me.
That’s nice, but where is he now?
After brushing my teeth and washing my face, I feel awake enough to tackle the elephant in the room: I slept with Evan.
More accurately, we went on what amounts to a date, and then he gave me multiple orgasms.
And I liked it all. And want to do it again. Badly. Ideally, while I’m sober so I can remember every little detail.
No. That’s crazy talk. I’m still only here on vacation, so at most, Evan and I can have a fling, which until last night, I didn’t think I’d ever want.
But… didn’t we just have a fling? Or is it a one-night stand at this point? Is there a difference?
Either way, what harm would it do to fling my pussy at him some more?
I look at myself in the mirror sternly. The harm could be immeasurable because days like yesterday could lead to feelings.
And maybe already have.
No. Can’t allow feelings. Even if by some magic, I were to turn into a Florida native and therefore no longer hold the status of a tourist, I still haven’t told Evan about Reagan—the most important part of my life. But if I tell Evan that I have a child—one of those creatures that he hates—he’ll run for the hills, assuming he’s not already hiding in said hills.
Speaking of that, I come out of the bedroom and search the house.
All I find is Sally, who narrows her eyes at me in the clear feline equivalent of slut shaming.
“Where is your human?” I ask.
No reply.
“Evan?”
No one answers.
Wow. Is it possible he did the classic one-night-stand thing and slinked away? But can you do that when the one-night stand was in your own house?
Maybe. Could he be watching me through some security camera, waiting until I get a clue and leave? Then again, I’ll still be his renter for a while, so avoiding me might be tricky.
Hmm. Jokes aside, could last night have meant so little to him? He said he wasn’t into flings, but he did drink, and he does own a penis, so…
My phone rings again.
Is it Evan?
No. It’s my friends.
Maybe they can shed some light on this?
I accept the call but tell them to hold on.
Walking over to the fridge, I take out milk, locate cereal in the pantry, and make myself some breakfast. If he truly is waiting for me to leave, I’m not going to make it easy for him. Besides, breakfast might absorb some of the alcohol still sloshing through my veins.
“Spill already,” Jolene says when I finally return to my phone.
“Yeah,” Dorothy chimes in. I can only see the top of her face on the screen, but she seems very curious because her eyebrows are raised, and her forehead is wrinkled.
“One second.” I take my breakfast to the porch, assuming that even if Evan is spying on me, he’s unlikely to overhear me outside. “It all started when Evan brought over a treasure map,” I say, and proceed to tell them everything.
