Total pages in book: 10
Estimated words: 9281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 46(@200wpm)___ 37(@250wpm)___ 31(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 9281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 46(@200wpm)___ 37(@250wpm)___ 31(@300wpm)
The answer is as clear as the final score of a hockey game.
But I also need to stick to the game plan. Katie doesn’t think of me like that. I’m sure this is just the holiday drinks talking. I clear my throat. “I have to do this volunteer thing tomorrow. I know it’s totally last minute, but I was so focused on the game this week, and then I looked at my calendar. There’s a holiday festival lighting event for the team and Little Friends. Is there any chance you would go with me?”
She smiles wide and bright. “I’m in. That sounds like so much fun,” she says. No conditions. No questions. Just a yes.
That’s Katie for you. She goes with me to things. She understands me. We laugh, we talk, we share. We trust each other. We always have.
I definitely wanted to ask her out at the karaoke bar. This devil has been perched on my shoulder for a long, long time.
“Thanks, Katie. I’m looking forward to it,” I say, earnestly. Maybe tomorrow I can sort through this mess of feelings walloping me.
“Anytime,” she says, then takes a deep breath, like it’s fuel. “And now there’s something I have been dying to tell you. There’s something I need to get off my chest.”
“That’s a little ominous,” I say, worried. “Did I do something wrong?”
She laughs. “No. But apparently I did. Do you know what Henry said when he broke up with me?”
I seethe a little at the mention of her most recent ex. That guy was such a jackass. “What the hell did that clown say?”
She draws a sharp breath, her brown eyes fiery, then bites out, “He said I needed some bedroom lessons.”
What? Wow. Holy shit. Color me curious as a cat. “Why the hell would he say that?”
“Because of something I asked him to do. Apparently”—she stops to sketch air quotes—“I’m ‘weird in bed.’”
4
TEST SUBJECT
Katie
I blame the bracelet. But in a good way. Maybe it gave me the superpowers to get that last bit of breakup bad vibes off my shoulders. Already I feel lighter. Like I’ve shed a burden. But you know what? I’m not entirely relaxed. I’m still kind of irked.
Fisher stares at me, slack-jawed. “He said that?”
He’s as confounded as I am.
I nod savagely. “He did,” I confirm.
I broke up with Henry because he was using me. He wanted to move in with me to—wait for it—save on rent in Seattle. He actually pitched that as his reason. He said he’d have more free time to pursue his dreams of skateboard design if he didn’t have to pay the landlord. I said, “Wow. I’m not interested in being your sugar mama.”
But I don’t repeat that tonight since Fisher knows the full story. He heard it all when I drowned my sorrows shortly after the relationship ended, and again when I moved back. Yes, Henry was using me, and that hurt. I’d needed a shoulder to cry on.
I have no more tears for Henry. But I’m left with the confidence blow from those last words. I clear my throat, trying to stay strong as I repeat his parting shot. “When he left, he said, ‘Good riddance, Katie. By the way, you’re weird in bed.’”
I lift my hot cocoa, take another sip, maybe to hide my face. I lift my hot cocoa, take another sip, maybe to hide my face. What will Fisher think of the you need lessons comment Henry delivered. But Fisher’s a friend, and we share our wins and losses with each other. We share our good days as well as our bad days. I blow out a long stream of air, then get a little more off my chest. “I don’t miss him one bit. I don’t miss a single thing about him. But I’m vexed by this. I don’t know what is wrong with me. That’s what has been nagging at me. It’s not the breakup. I am so over that. Except I don’t know if there’s actually something wrong with me.”
Fisher drags a hand through his golden brown hair, nodding slowly. “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you,” he says, and there’s no sarcasm in his tone, just warmth and support.
Fisher can’t truly know, but I appreciate the sentiment. “I mean, look, it’s not like I ate a sandwich during sex,” I point out, trying to make light of Henry’s insult.
He blinks, his green eyes glimmering a little more darkly before he seems to shake it off then says, “And look, if you did, would it really be that weird? Good sex should work up your appetite.”
A new kind of calm falls over me. I knew Fisher would make me feel better. Maybe that’s all I needed. Just to laugh off that cruel offhand comment that’s gnawed away at my confidence.