Page 112
Story: Soft Rebound
“Amazing,” I say quietly.
Roxie curls her hand around her ear, pretending she needs it to hear better. “Come again? How is the sex with Joseph Larson, Esquire?”
I lose my patience and throw my hands up. “It’s fucking amazing, okay? It’s by far the best sex I’ve ever had. I honestly didn’t think it could even be like that, and he makes me feel everything, in my body and all over, it’s this all-encompassing experience, and we’re always so connected, I know he’s right there with me, in every moment, it’s so ... transcendental. Especially when it’s absolutely filthy.”
Roxie grins like the cat who got in the cream. “Well, then.”
“What?”
“You’re totally in love with the guy.”
“I’m not!”
“Yes, you are. And I bet he is, too.”
I stick out my lower lip in a pout. I do not appreciate her making sense right now.
“Whatever. You’ll figure it out soon enough. Both of you. When you’re not so acutely terrified of getting hurt again.”
Running my index finger around the mouth of my bottle, I glance at her sideways. “How do you even know I’m in love?”
“Because what you’ve just described? I’ve never felt that. Not once. Not ever. So that must be what it is, then.”
I didn’t feel any of this for Jake either. I mean, it came close, and I was young and so, so grateful for the attention, and he wasn’t bad in bed or anything, but it’s never been like how it is with Joe.
“Look, I don’t think sexual chemistry is everything,” says Roxie, sounding way too sober for how much we’ve both had to drink. “But it sounds like you have a real connection, and you have fun together, and he supports you and has your back when it matters... That sounds like it’s the real deal, Liz. The realest.”
My chest tightens. Deep within, I’ve known that for a while. It’s real. Very real. And it’s already too late to avoid getting hurt.
“Something happened yesterday,” Roxie continues. “I don’t know Joe all that well, but my guess is that whatever happened might’ve triggered one of his major fears, or uncovered a major pain. If you know what that is, then you can probably figure out what happened.”
She has a point and I’m too drunk to argue with her, and too sad to even try. So I just nod.
She leans over to squeeze my knee. “Promise me you will go talk to him.”
I look up but don’t say anything.
“Promise me!”
“I promise!” I say, sounding a little put upon. Or maybe just tipsy. “I promise I will text him tomorrow and figure out what’s going on.”
“No, not text. Face to face. Go to his place. Ambush him.”
“I’m not going to ambush him! It sounds unfair.”
“All is fair in love and war.”
I roll my eyes. “Okay, John Lyly.”
“Who the hell is John Lyly?”
“The poet who first said that.”
“How could you ever say you’re boring?”
I chuckle. “You’re just too easily amused.”
“One of my best qualities, so I’m told.”
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