A Match Made in Vegas Read Online Crystal Kaswell

Categories Genre: Alpha Male Tags Authors: Crystal Kaswell Advertisement1

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What can I see? I need the extra height today. I need to feel bigger, to stand taller and prouder.

I don't have it in my heart, so I'm faking it with footwear. That's the great and terrible thing about life as a woman. All these ways to fake it with makeup and clothing and the expectation to keep up appearances.

But I'm not here to write a feminist manifesto. Not directly, anyway. Yes, the study of sex is typically aligned with feminist interests, but not always.

Nature doesn't live and die by ideals.

And then scientists aren't always as objective as they hope—

But now, I'm lost in a thread of logic. And no matter how hard I tug at the thread, I won't forget I walked away from my husband. I won't stop missing him. I won't feel at home.

New York is an amazing, alive city.

And it's three thousand miles from home.

Dad is loving it, though. The trip and the city. Even our tour of midtown apartments.

He looks at home in the small studio, the Empire State Building behind him. But then Dad looks at home everywhere. He projects the energy of a man who's succeeded in multiple careers, made millions of dollars, and charmed every person he's ever met.

Which he has.

But he's also fucked up a lot, been to rehab three times, and almost lost his son, literally and metaphorically.

I haven't hit nearly the highs or lows.

I don't have the confidence of a multi-millionaire.

But I know this is the right choice. If only that made it hurt less.

After three days, I'm used to the city. I love the energy of it. The tall buildings, the bustling streets, the echo of conversation in a dozen languages.

It has this history California doesn't.

But the avocado portions—

The less said about that, the better. (And they're not fresh either).

I push my thoughts of avocados and future ex-husbands aside as I look around the studio. It's nice. Hardwood floors, huge windows, stainless steel appliances.

There's just enough room for a desk, a bed, and a tiny table for two. Maybe two chairs on the balcony. Not that anyone will want to sit there come November.

How am I going to survive winter?

Snow.

Cold.

What if there's a blizzard?

It would be the perfect opportunity to stay inside with someone. Only there's no someone. Not in the Empire State.

Dad takes his own picture, sends it to Mom, loses himself in a text thread.

I check the bathroom. Also small but nice. The shower has room for two. Though shower sex is never as fun in reality as it is in fantasy. The water washes away all the natural lubricant. And the slippery floor makes it hard to get a good grip.

Not that I'm planning to take anyone back here. Not anytime soon.

But eventually… I can't spend my entire time in New York pining for my temporary husband.

I meet Dad in the hallway.

He motions to the front wall. "Good place for a Matrix poster."

"Don't even." Levity returns to my voice. Thank god Dad is here. I'd be a puddle on the floor without his bad jokes.

"Don't send you framed posters of all four Matrix movies?" He pats me on the shoulder. "If you tell me which posters you'd prefer maybe."

"What if I want bare walls?"

"Bare walls are for prisoners."

Yeah. That sounds right.

"I know it's hard, Daph, but you'll be great." He doesn't specify which part is hard. We haven't really talked about my accidental wedding. I said it's over, I don't want to discuss it and Mom and Dad—

Well, they didn't respect it, exactly.

But they stopped pressing after a few days.

Mostly.

"And I'll visit all the time," Dad says. "Mom and I will pay for an extra bedroom…"

"That will be great when I have threesomes," I say. "It's hard to sleep three in one bed."

"Not really," he says.

Ew. Gross. My nose scrunches.

"You think you can out-slut your old man?" He shoots me a please look I usually see on Damon. "No way in hell."

"Doesn't that bother Mom?" I ask. "That you've been with so many people?" She's never mentioned her number, but I know they got together when she was young. He might have been her first. Her only.

Or they might be swinging.

With Jackson's parents.

No.

Jackson's dad and my dad don't have a swinging kind of relationship.

But they were in a band together—

They probably did all sorts of—

This is just too much information.

Where was I? Right. My parents having sex. Even I, a future sex researcher, prefer to not think about my parents having sex.

"Of course, it did," he says. "But you know sex isn't always intimate."

"Because I'm a researcher," I say. "And because I hook up with lots of random guys."

"As long as you're safe and you're happy, I'm happy." He sells it well enough.

He's way better at this game than I am. Damon is too. It's annoying sometimes, but not right now.


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