"Aren't you hot in jeans?" she asks.
"I hope so." He turns to show off his ass. "Tell me I look good."
She motions so-so.
"Brutal," I say.
"You can deny it if you want, but I know you see it," Dare says.
"Your motorcycle jacket?" she asks.
"No. That's Tricky's thing," he says. "He's the brooding one. Well, when your boyfriend isn't here. Or maybe when he is. Love and all that."
"Yes, love and all that is how I think of my relationship." Luna laughs. "How do either of you get laid? You have no charm."
"Charm has nothing to do with it." Dare flexes a bicep.
"That tracks," she says.
"Ah, you don't mean that." Dare smiles.
"Really, I do. The personality… not good," she says.
"That's why he only sticks around for a night. It's not long enough for someone to get to know his personality," I say.
Dare nods it's true.
She laughs. "You two are just like Ollie and Holden. Well…" Like they were, before the whole I'm screwing your sister thing put a wedge between them.
"Only more beautiful." Dare avoids the messy stuff, the same way I do.
Everyone in my life avoids the messy shit. Everyone except my secret online exhibitionist.
"Exactly what I was thinking," Luna says.
"Is this guy giving you trouble?" Dare motions to me.
"I'm used to it," she says.
"What is up with him?" Dare asks.
"Isn't he your best friend?" she asks.
Dare motions sorta. "He's all right."
"Too good-looking, huh?" I try to jump into the banter, but I don't deliver the enthusiasm. "Ruining your game."
"You are a shit wingman, yeah," Dare says. "But it's not looks. Come on." He motions to his face. Turns to Luna for backup. "Be honest. I'm better looking than Tricky."
"You're both so annoying, it's really hard to not bring that into the rating," she says.
"Who's more annoying?" Dare asks.
"That's like comparing bad coffee with… equally bad coffee," she says.
"Not your best metaphor," he says.
"No." She laughs. "It's not."
He chuckles. "You don't want to hurt Patrick's feelings. I get it. He does have a fragile ego."
"You've found me out," she says.
"It wouldn't matter either way," Dare says. "Patrick is never interested in women."
"Oh? Really? You like guys? How did I not know that? Can I set you up?" Luna asks.
"I don't like guys," I say.
"Asexual?" Luna asks.
"Look at him," Dare says. "No. Smell him."
"Pass," Luna says.
"He smells like oranges," Dare says.
"I love citrus," I say.
"Orange soap. A girl's orange soap," he says.
"Why can't a man use orange soap?" Luna asks.
"A man, sure? Tricky, no way," Dare says.
"Maybe he's evolving," Luna says.
Dare shakes his head I don't think so. "You have that look too. Satisfied."
Luna nods kinda.
"But oddly unsatisfied," Dare says. "What happened? Too fast?"
"Why do you care about my sex life?" I ask.
"So you have a sex life." Dare taps his chin. "Interesting."
"Get a hobby," I say.
"This is my hobby," he says. "Who's the girl?"
"A girl who requested my company," I say.
"Now, I know that's bullshit. Who would request your company?" he asks.
Luna laughs. "That's harsh. Even for me."
"Truth hurts sometimes," Dare says.
"Takes one to know one," I say.
He laughs.
This is our routine. This has been our routine since we were kids. We've been friends forever. We've kept it light forever.
But, today, it feels wrong.
I don't want light bullshit.
I want something real.
"Something new?" Luna asks.
Maybe. If she's game. Imogen is interesting. Different from other people I know. Very different from other woman who invite me to their apartments. But I'm not in the mood to discuss it with them. "I need coffee." I check the clock. Thirty minutes until my next appointment. It's not enough time, but I can't wait another second.
"I can put on a pot." Luna motions to the coffee machine on the counter. The drip isn't up to her standards, but there's "No way she's drinking coffee from a pod."
"Nah. I'll pick up something," I say. "You want anything?"
"Blue Bottle?" she asks.
"Yeah." It's two doors down.
She bites her lip, no doubt weighing her desire for an excellent iced coffee against the ridiculous prices at the San Francisco chain. "If you don't mind."
"Black or NOLA style?" I ask.
"Ooh, tough call. Black," she says.
"Got it," I say.
"Thanks, Tricky. I owe you." She blows me a kiss.
Dare says something to her, something about his jealousy. He flirts. Or teases. I can't always tell with him.
I don't enjoy it the way I normally do. I don't feel the warmth of the shop. Or enjoy the pink string lights. They make me think of Thorn.
They make me think of Imogen—
The color of her sheets—
The tattoo on her ribs.
The tattoo I put on her ribs.
Even when I step outside, into the warm June afternoon, I don't feel the warmth of the sun or the cool of the breeze.
Only the intense need for every one of my Hearts and Thorns's thoughts.
I make it all the way to the coffee shop, into line, then I read.
Chapter Six
The Hookup Experiment (Part Two)
Posted by Hearts and Thorns
Friday June 17th, 2 A.M.
I should be asleep.
But I can't find slumber in my room. My sheets smell like satisfaction.
I know, I know. Satisfaction is a feeling, not a smell. But it's all over the room. The lingering presence of another person in my space. Another person, reading my body, finding what I want, touching me, making me come.
And let me tell you…
I came.
I came like I've never come before.
It turns out I'm not frigid. Well, not physically anyway. My ex might be right. After all, I did end things because it made sense. I was ruthless about it.
He was studying abroad; I didn't want to do long-distance—the end.
But maybe it was more than the practicalities.
Maybe that was an excuse.
Am I about to compare myself to a fictional serial killer? I am. On Dexter, the TV show, the main character can't stay in relationships for long, or have sex with his girlfriends, because they start to see he's missing something. (Don't worry. I only watched the pilot because he insisted. I didn't hate it as much as I expected. It's pretty funny, actually).