I shot him a look. “How many beers have you had?”
“Three.”
“Is that where this is coming from?”
He looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“I just mean your question feels like it came out of nowhere. Like a three-beers-in question.”
He shrugged. “I was just thinking about it.”
“Why?”
“What about the date you went on a few days ago, with the bartender guy?”
“Waiter. Are you asking if I slept with him?”
“I guess I am.”
“We didn’t. And no, I wasn’t exaggerating about the sober sex. Or lack of it.”
“Damn.” He looked away. “It’s just that ... I don’t know. Sober sex is so much better than drunk sex. Personally, I’ve had enough drunk hookups to last the rest of my life. At a certain point, it just feels like masturbating with someone else in the room.”
My mind was trying to decide if I was comfortable having this conversation. “That’s ... visual.”
He shook his head. “Sorry. Forget I asked. You know how nosy I get after a few beers.”
I smiled sympathetically as we rode the elevator down to the lobby. “I really need to get home, but I have to find Emilie first. And then there’s a screenwriter waiting for me to blow him away with my explanation of federal sentencing guidelines.”
“How many times a day do you use that line?”
“I’ve lost track.”
He grinned. “Get on the sober sex train, Sam. You won’t regret it.”
“Bye!” I rolled my eyes as I jumped in the next cab.
I still hadn’t heard back from Emilie, so I decided to stop by her apartment to see if she was home.
“West Twelfth and Fifth, please.”
I stared out the window, Charlie’s question repeating in my head. It was an intimate question, but it didn’t feel intrusive. The idea of him thinking about my sex life made my heart beat a little faster.
I needed a male perspective. Before I could change my mind, I dialed Connor.
Gillian answered in a whisper. “Hi Sam, it’s Gillian. Connor’s asleep. He pulled an all-nighter.”
I heard a groggy voice ask who was calling as she passed him the phone.
“Sam? Is everything okay?”
“Looks like someone is still burning it at both ends even though you rejected lawyerhood.”
“Yeah, yeah. Seriously, what’s up? I don’t think we’ve ever talked on the phone before, and if I can be completely frank, I’m much more of a texter.”
“I just wanted some ... guy advice,” I said, feeling lame.
I could almost hear him sit up straighter.
