“Yeah,” she says with a little lobsided smile.
I shake my head. “He won't.”
How would he even find out? I don't think I've ever even spoken to him. At all.
“Do you not feel guilty?” she asks me rather abruptly and curiously.
“Why would I feel guilty? I'm not the one dating him, you are.” The words leave a bitter taste in my mouth and I have to force myself to look away from Juliette.
Why is she even dating him? Sure, he's good looking and he's athletic and…never mind, he's perfect for her.
She sighs. “I know…but I don't feel guilty, is that bad?”
I don't know when this became a therapy session, but I find myself wanting to answer her question, although I'm not sure how.
It's evident that Juliette isn't as empathetic as the regular human being usually is; I mean, she's a bitch, however, I know she's not completely cruel, so why doesn't she feel guilty about cheating on him?
“Do you love him?” I question, digging my nails into my hands.
“I think so,” she answers noncommittally and my brain exhales a little.
“You think so? That doesn't sound like love.”
“Oh yeah? Like you know so much about love,” she says with a scoff as she turns the corner.
Okay, she has a point there, but that's only because I don't want to know anything about love. I'm sure if I was to unfortunately fall in love with someone, then I wouldn't think twice about loving them.
The defensive tone radiating off her gives me an idea, a theory if you will; if she's so in love with Adonis, then why did she kiss me? Clearly, she's lacking something.
“Fair enough.” I shrug. “I might not know anything about love, but I do know a lot about fucking.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” she questions, furrowing her eyebrows.
“Adonis doesn't fuck you properly, does he?” I say smugly, testing my theory.
“O—of course he does!” she shrieks in an unconvincing tone.
Bingo.
“Really?” I question, raising my eyebrows. “No judgment here, you can tell me.”
I can't believe I just told Juliette I wouldn't judge her for something and actually meant it. I'm so disgusted with myself right now. What is going on with me?
She takes a few beats before she sighs and speaks, “He can't make me…cum.”
The pure frustration and disappointment on her face makes my heart clench for some reason. I didn't expect her to be honest so quickly, but it's refreshing. It's not exactly breaking news though; many men can't make women cum.
Many women make jokes about it and pretend it somehow makes us the winners, but it really doesn't and I'm glad Juliette is at least, being honest about how disappointed she is.
Seriously, letting a man use you like a Flashlight then making jokes about how you didn't get any pleasure is degrading. Don't sleep with men who won't make you cum, it’s simple.
I'm ready to unload that speech onto Juliette, but the look in her eyes startles me a little. There's something else; I have a feeling that these men are trying their hardest or at least, I hope they are.
Time to test out another theory.
“Just him?” I question, clenching my fists tightly. I want to excuse it; she's just got a shitty boyfriend.
Please, say yes. Please, say a man has been able to make you cum before.
