“Hold up. What happened?”
“Xander …” I start but stop myself. Where do I even begin? Xander finger banged me in the elevator, I rode his fingers like a cowgirl, he made me come so hard that the firefighters they sent didn’t do it for me—
“What?” Em reminds me I’m having this conversation in my head and not with her.
“Xander fell asleep,” I say, deciding that Xander’s manual labor is an entirely different conversation that we need to have over drinks.
“That’s amazing!”
“Nope,” I say, cutting her off before I chicken out on this conversation and truly gaslight myself. “I watched him in the dark.”
I suck in a breath, waiting for Em to jump in with a comment. Instead, the line remains silent, so I brace myself forwhat I’m going to say next. “I reached out and stroked his fucking face.”
“Okay,” Em says, slowly so as not to spook me.
Here goes nothing.
“And it felt good being there for him,” I say, punctuating every single word with disgust.
“Did you just say the F word?” Em says, almost choking on her own spit.
“Yes.”
“You have feelings?” Em asks, and this time I can tell she’s using her first-day-of-school-don’t-scare-the-freshmen voice. Don’t scare the emotionally unavailable woman.
“Xander is making me feel,” I say mincing the words. Not taking responsibility. Because why would I? “Chapter five: ‘The Trap of Passion: Why the People Who Make Your Heart Race Also Make Your Life Hell.’ ” I don’t have to read that chapter. I lived it with my parents when The Cheating happened and my home became a war zone. “I need an exit strategy from this sleep study, like now.”
“You’re not bailing on Xander because of feelings,” Em says, calling me out.
“Chapter seven—,” I start, but she cuts me off.
“Fuck your mom’s book,” Em says, her voice morphing from caring to cutting.
“That book has sold millions of copies worldwide,” I say, defending the book and, by extension, my lifestyle.
“So hasThe Lord of the Rings. Do you believe hobbits exist?”
“I don’t understand the reference.” Of course I understand. I’m being a smartass. And Em knows this.
“It’s fiction,” Em says. This catches me off guard. “Catching feelings isn’t a death sentence.”
“Isn’t it?” I say, seeing red. I’m unable to keep my cool about the topic I’ve so carefully managed with my rules. “Because why would any parent put their kid through what I went through if it wasn’t absolutely fucking necessary?”
The line goes silent for a moment. No quick comeback.
I’m thankful for the respite.
“I’m sorry your parents are a bag of dicks,” she says, and a bubble of laughter escapes my lips. I’m so grateful for the comment. I wish she was here to hug. “But you’re wrong.”
“What?”
I hear her taking a deep breath. “Your negativity bias is showing.”
“You’re going to try and use science to change my mind? Really?” I say, unconvinced.
“What? I can read research papers too,” she says. Before I can argue, she continues. “You know studies show that it takes five positive interactions to outweigh just one negative interaction in a relationship. And if you count how many interactions you’ve had with Xander …” She doesn’t finish the sentence, letting me fill in the blanks.
I make apfftsound, trying to show how unbothered I am that she’s using science against me. The truth is, I love/hate that she’s using science right now. She’s right, though. Negative bias in scientific theory is real.
