Page 8 of The No Repeat Policy

I barely have time to sit before Madison pops her head into my office.

“So?”

She’s bouncing, at eight in the fucking morning.

“So what?”

I wrinkle my brow and blink, hoping it’ll wake me a little more. I know exactly what she’s asking about, but part of me really doesn’t want to talk about it. I still feel bad about lying to him.

“Thành?”

She stretches his name out while taking a seat across from me and shutting the door behind her.

That says it all. She wants all the details. I shake my head and huff. My few texts on him must not have been enough.

“I’m never letting you match me with a guy again,”

I tell her bluntly, but a smile escapes.

“Tiny dick?”

Madison immediately goes to the first issue I guess she might have. “I thought skinny guys were known for their big dicks?”

“That definitely wasn’t the problem,”

I say. He wasn’t lacking a bit there.

“Oooh, so he did have a big dick.”

“He…”

I stop myself from agreeing with her. That isn’t the point. “He was clingy.”

“Ah. So you’re not the touchy-feely type? I’ll try to remember that.”

She skews her lips.

“No, no.”

I lean back and shake my head at her, smiling. That’s not what I meant. “It’s not like that. He…uh…I mean like…”

“He what?”

She raises her head and looks down her nose at me.

“I just wanted a quick…you know.”

I shrug, wanting her to fill in the blanks. I don’t normally have an issue saying it, but we’re at work, and Heather’s office borders mine. I’m still not sure how soundproof these walls are.

“Ah…”

Light illuminates her eyes and the clarity escapes in the form of a long sigh. “He was clingy. He wanted to hang out. Maybe got a little attached.”

“He definitely got attached.”

I roll my eyes and exhale. “He stayed the night and then wanted to go out for lunch.”

“Ah…”

Madison keeps oohing and aahing.

“And,”

I emphasize it, “he wanted to meet up again.”

“And?”

Madison drags it out.

This is the part I didn’t want to admit, but what-the-fuck-ever. She’ll figure it out eventually anyway. I’m the whole trauma package, a hopeless romantic douchebag combo.

“I got his number—” I start.

“Aw, that’s swe—”

“…and…”

I put my hand up and shake my head, eyes closed, to say no, darling, you’re not following. “I threw it away when he left. As soon as he left.”

“Excuse me.”

Madison looks dumbstruck.

“Yeah…”

I let the word slip free, hating every single letter of it. God, I was just feeling better about it too. I had a full day to stop dwelling on it, but here we are again.

“Like you accidentally threw it away?” she asks.

“No,”

I say, leaving my lips pooched after the syllable escapes them.

“Oh.”

Her lips form into a hard line. “Gotcha. You’re a real bitch, huh?”

My head twitches back. That’s not what I was expecting. I wasn’t expecting a high five and congrats, but she went straight for the jugular.

“I…I mean I—”

My mouth moves but there are no coherent thoughts or sentences to follow. I want to spout that I’m not a horrible guy. I’m really not. It’s not how it seems. It’s not like I just want to fuck every guy and leave them on the curb. I just… Love isn’t real, or at least it’s never real for both people. Maybe to one it is, but to the other it’s just a game. And if it’s a game, the best way not to get hurt by it is to just play.

God, maybe I am that bad. Fuck.

“It’s okay, Kol. Calm your white ass down,”

she stops me. “I didn’t say it’s a bad thing. Hell. Hoe it up. It’s more fun anyway.”

A laugh leaps from my mouth.

“It is, isn’t it?”

I smile, not really believing the words coming out of my own mouth.

“Damn right,”

Madison says. “And who knows, you might just find Mr. Right in bed one day.”

“Yeah.”

I nod, smiling despite the way my mood swaps. “Guess so.”

But I don’t believe it either. Mr. Right is a fairy tale, an imaginative fiction.