“Shut up.” I flop back into the sofa, careful to avoid the rogue spring, and bury my face in my hands. “Just trust me on this. Keegan and I had sex, and now everything is ruined.”
“Is it ...”
I still have my face buried in my hands, so I hear rather than see her drawing out the question. I peek at her from between my fingers.
“What?”
“Was the sex bad?” she asks with an exaggerated wince.
“No!”
“Whew.” She leans back, but since she’s on the yoga ball, it nearly rolls out from under her. “I don’t think I could handle the knowledge that Keegan isn’t amazing in bed. I am simply not that imaginative.”
I roll my eyes at her drama, but don’t say anything. I’m not going to discuss with her what sex with Keegan was like. Partly because it’s just not something I’m willing to share with anyone. And partly because I can’t even think about what happened between us without feeling flushed and nervous and I don’t even know what else.
Last night, in the moment, when he was with me, everything felt perfect. Like I was exactly where I was supposed to be. It was only this morning that things started to get messed up in my mind.
“Okay,” Reb is saying thoughtfully, “So, if the sex was good, then what’s the problem?” She jerks back, as if suddenly struck by an idea. “Did he try to brush this off like it’s no big deal? Did he try to pull that friends with benefits bullshit on you, because I swear to god, I will shiv him.”
“Not exactly,” I hedge, because suddenly telling the rest of the story seems dicey.
“Then what? What did he do that has you this freaked out?”
“He ... he told me he loves me.”
Reb gives me a long, slow blink. “Okay. And then what?”
“He wanted to take me to brunch.”
“Okay, I’m not sure I see the problem here. I mean, he’s your best friend, right? Great sex plus friendship plus love plus brunch should equal the perfect relationship.”
“No. It doesn’t. And that’s the problem right there.” I jab a finger at her, half in accusation, half in a eureka moment. “He’s my best friend. What happens if this doesn’t work out? I’ve put all of my relationship eggs in one basket. I drop the basket, all the eggs are gone. Then what?”
“Okay, first off, ouch. Keegan is your best friend, not your only friend.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Maybe. But why wouldn’t it work out? Y’all are perfect together.”
“It’s already not working out. We’ve already had our first fight.”
Reb rolls back, again nearly falling right off her yoga ball. “About what?”
“He was mad that I needed to come into work today instead of going to brunch with him.” I go full throttle with my indignation here, because I know I’m in the right. “Can you believe he said that?”
“No, I can’t.”
“Right?” I demand. “Criticizing me for spending too much time at work is crossing a line.”
“No, I meant, I actually can’t believe he said that. Normally, he’s very supportive, right?”
“Yeah,” I admit, a little unsettled that she’s not agreeing with me.
“Okay, back it up. Lay it out for me. How did you go from hot crazy sex to him criticizing your work ethic?”
So I do. I talk her through the morning, glossing over my mental freak out, and ending with him accusing me of holding people at arm's length. I finish with, “Can you believe he would say that?”
Reb gives me a cagey look. “What? That you try to control relationships?”
