My eyes narrow. "Come on. Say it."
He rolls his eyes. "Alright. Depends. You want the honest truth or the curated-for-your-comfort truth?"
"Since when do you do comfortable?" I shoot back, even though my stomach knots. "Truth. How many?"
He scratches his scruff, still weighing it until I nudge him with my elbow. "Alright... Double digits."
My eyes fly wide and he catches it. For a second, his gaze holds mine—unguarded, almost regretful—before the smirk comes back like armor.
I give him a stupid smirk of my own and say flatly, "Of course. High double digits?"
"No. Doesn't matter." He hooks my chin, tilting it so I can't look away. "Ask me how many I remember instead."
"How many?"
"None. Practice rounds before the real thing."
"Hmmm. I love how you justify being a slut."
"I've nothing to justify. You asked me and didn't want me to lie. I'm a guy with a healthy libido, but I never played anyone. I was always upfront about my intentions."
What do you say to that? Nothing. I just turn around, giving him my back.
He wraps his arms around me, whispering into my ear: "We both tried to do the right thing with the wrong people, and now we're doing the wrong thing with the right person. End ofstory."
"Hm. End of story..." I echo dryly, even though I hope that's the case. Then I stare at the flickering screen until I fall asleep again.
An hour later, I get up, eat more cannoli to cope with the damn double digits—yeah, I'm not over it—and go change into my civil wear.
When I pull out my phone from my purse, the screen is crowded with missed calls and messages—all from Lu.
Lu:Stop getting railed and answer your damn phone
Lu:Exhibition opens in two hours. TWO. HOURS.
Lu:I'm pretending to be zen but my left eyelash just fell off and I think that's a sign
Lu:Okay, didn't even officially open yet and someone purchased two of my BURN-THEM-ALIVE era paintings. I'm calming down
Lu:Damn, it's getting aggressively peoply in here. Get ready. And bring gum. I forgot it
She's officially a train wreck.
When I get back to the living room, Ben's deep in his phone. "I'm going to order food. Do you feel like Vietnamese?"
"I can't stay. Lucy's exhibition is tonight. I have to go get ready," I say, packing my stuff in my purse.
He turns his head toward me. A pause. "You know I won't see you 'til Mara's wedding?" He's trying to sound casual but his body is rigid. "Two back-to-back shifts, then the climbing event and I'll have to fly a day earlier."
"Jesus. That's not healthy. When do you even sleep?"
He walks to the main door, his shoulders filling the whole frame, his face flat.
"Why wasn't I invited?" he asks. "Is Richard going?"
"I didn't think you'd be into that—"
"I'm into anything you're into," he says fast. "Are you taking him with you?"
