“No, I need to do this myself, but thank you.” She offered me a supportive smile and then moved back to her side of our dorm room and pulled out her laptop. I took a shower and then changed into my favorite pair of jeans and a black cropped sweater. After applying just enough eyeliner to look fierce instead of teary, I took a deep, fortifying breath to settle the last of my nerves. I wasn’t going to let some mediocre guy make me feel small.
Chris lived off campus in an apartment complex that always smelled vaguely of pizza grease and was mostly rented by college students. I knocked on his door and was secretly a little thrilled when he opened it and his eyes immediately widened.
“Ava, I wasn’t expecting you.”
“You have some of my things. I want them back.” My voice remained steady and my confidence blossomed. I could do this. Was I still hurt by his actions? Yes. But the longer I stood here, the stronger I felt.
“Uh, sure.”
He stepped back from the door and let me pass him, and I headed straight to his room where I knew my stuff would be. I didn’t want to be here any longer than necessary.
I grabbed the books he’d borrowed from next to his bed while he leaned against the doorframe, watching me.
“I am sorry,” he said quietly.
I faced him. “Why’d you do it? Why not just break up with me first? Why’d you cheat? Was it going on the whole time?”
The questions came out like word vomit.
He stepped forward, but halted before he got too close. “It wasn’t going on the whole time. Just in the last few weeks. I was planning to break up with you, but you’re always busy.”
I wasn’tthatbusy. We’d had a movie night only a few nights before I found him in the library, so his answer felt wholly inadequate.
“I call bullshit. You could’ve talked to me. Hell, breaking up with me via text would’ve been more respectful than what you did.”
He held up his hands to stop me. “Look, Ava. I really don’t want to get into this, okay?”
I gaped at him. “Youdon’t want to get into this? You don’t think I deserve some answers? You cheated on me!”
His nostrils flared and his jaw clenched. I knew that look. He was pissed. “Fine, you want to know the truth? You’re shitty in bed and I had needs.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. You’re hot, but you’re a shitty lay. For a dancer, I would think you would be way hotter in the sheets, but our sex life was so boring.”
Was he fucking serious?
This was coming from the guy who insisted on missionary because it was “romantic” and didn’t want to snuggle because he’d just get turned on and want to fuck?
“You are such a fucking asshole, and I am so glad we’re over.”
I grabbed my books and left his apartment without looking back.
I was still seething by the time I got home. I dropped my box of books on my bed and then paced. Sydney wasn’t home and I was desperate for someone to vent to, but more than that, I wanted to prove that dickless wonder wrong.
He thoughtIwas boring in bed?
I’d prove him wrong—not for him, but for myself.
I stormed over to my desk, grabbed a cute notebook I’d bought but hadn’t used for anything yet, and opened it up. Grabbing a pen, I wrote Spicy Bucket List on the top.
I thought about all the things I’d wanted or thoughtabout in past relationships that I’d never gotten to experience and started writing.
1. Come from oral sex (receiving)
2. Make a man come from a BJ (swallow it)
3. Role-playing
