“Maybe we should stop now so I can tell myself I might have answered yes to at least one.”
“Come on, I’m sure you will. And who knows, maybe some of those questions were trick questions where you have to answer no to get it right.”
I give her a doubtful pout, folding my arms across my chest. This is turning out to be humiliating, even more than Edward’s words. Now, a curated test will confirm his claims.
When we complete the last question, she angles her phone away so I won’t see the answer. “So?” I worriedly ask.
She remains silent, her eyes going left and right as she reads. “Never mind. This test is stupid,” she concludes.
“Show me.”
“No, it’s dumb. They don’t know what they’re talking about.”
Before she can react, especially given how much we drank, I snatch the phone away to see my pathetic results. “Please tell us you’re joking,” I read out loud. “There’s no way you answered ‘no’ on every single question here unless you lied. If you didn’t, you are the most excruciatingly bad-at-sex person anyone could ever come across. You lack imagination, boldness, and probably the will to live. Sex with you is, without a doubt, the greatest chore one might ever encounter. We hope for everyone’s sake that they never enter your bed. Please, for the love of God, stop having sex.”
For the first time in ten years, I feel like I might cry. Hana takes the phone away from me, her apologetic eyes not enough to shake me out of my thoughts.
I’m terrible at sex.
I’m beyond boring, and I now realize that Eddie was gentle with his choice of words.
“Oh God,” I whimper with shame.
“It’s just a stupid test, Gen. It’s not true. Come on.”
“It is. It’s so true. I’m the most boring person in the world. No wonder Edward left.”
“No, stop that right now! It’s not true, and we can do another test to prove it.”
“It will only confirm what this one said. Shit, Hana… I’m awful at sex.”
I fall back onto the couch, processing the terrible information. It’s not like I ever believed that I was a sex goddess, but I didn’t think it wasthatbad.
“Come on, you’re young! You can improve!”
“No, the test said to stop having sex altogether. I think I’ll do that.”
“Fuck that test. It’s just a stupid bucket list that one person decided on. It’s their subjective opinion of what makes someone good in bed, not some globally agreed upon truth.”
I lie there, staring at the high ceiling above us. Maybe it’s the wine and the vodka—or perhaps desperation—but a ludicrous idea sprouts in my head. “It’s a bucket list,” I repeat.
“Yeah.”
“Which anyone could go through.”
“I guess.”
“Even me.”
Now she’s catching my drift, and a glimmer of interest shines in her brown eyes when I look up at her. “Even you, yes,” she confirms.
“Then I’ll do every item on it and show that stupid test who’s boss.”
“Yes, you will!” She’s beyond hyped up now, sitting straight up on the couch.
I push myself to the same position, slightly worried by how the earth spins too hard and too fast.
“There’s one problem though,” I say with a frown.
