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“Once?”

“When I was fifteen. I was on vacation with my parents, my aunt and uncle, and my cousins, one of which is only a coupleyears older than me. We went to the beach, just the two of us, met up with a group of local guys who invited us to a bonfire.”

“And what happened next?”

“One of them took a liking to me. He flirted with me all night. Said he’d never met anyone like me before and he wanted to stay in touch after I left. I’ll admit, I was a little smitten, so I gave him my number. And then later that night, I gave him my virginity in the bed of his pickup truck.”

It takes a lot to ignore the twinge of jealousy that slides through my chest. It’s no secret that she’s slept with other men, just as I’ve slept with plenty of other women, but it doesn’t mean I like hearing her talk about it.

“Let me guess. You never heard from him again.”

“Ding. Ding.” She flashes me her bright white teeth.

“Your adversity to my teenage exploits makes a hell of a lot more sense now.”

“I cried for two weeks after we got home,” she admits softly. “And then I swore I’d never let a guy hurt me like that again.”

“And did you?”

“Nope.” She pops her lips around the P. “I’ve hung out with plenty of guys since then, but with one very big difference. I don’t give them any power. I take what I want and I move on.”

“Just like that?”

“Hard for someone to hurt you when you don’t give them the chance.” She shrugs softly.

“It’s lonely, though, right? Never letting anyone get too close.” I should know. It’s basically been my entire MO since college.

“I don’t think so. I have my friends. My family.”

“But it’s not the same.”

“No, it isn’t. But some things are worth protecting.”

“And what about me?” I ask, curious as to just how honest she’s willing to be with me.

“What about you?”

“You let me get close.”

“And then you ghosted me.” She gives me a pointed look.

“And yet you’re still here.”

“I am.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re friends and friends forgive each other when they mess up. So long as it doesn’t become a recurring theme.”

Friends...

I mean, I know that’s technically what we are, but it doesn’t make hearing her say it any less of a punch to the stomach.

Because deep down I don’t just want to be her friend. But for the life of me I can’t bridge the wide gap that exists between us.

It’s easier this way.

Less complicated.