Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 70376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
“This is a valid point.” I pause mid sway to take a sip of champagne. Ah. Bubbly nectar of the booze gods. Get inside me.
His gaze turns speculative.
“What?”
“I’m not sure if I should ask,” he says.
“Go for it.”
“All right. Did you really think Ryan was Prince Charming? I mean, really, really?”
I take a deep breath. “Yeah. I guess I did. I mean, he wasn’t always a dick. Sure, he had his foibles, but things between us used to be generally pretty good.”
“Generally pretty good,” he repeats.
“Dude. Marriage isn’t easy.”
“I believe that.”
“But maybe with the right person it should be,” I say, thinking deep thoughts. “I don’t know. He was the first person I ever slept with. He’s the only person I’ve ever slept with. Sorry if that’s too much information.”
Leif just shrugs.
“It’s one of the things that concerns me now and then, actually.” I must be inebriated or I’d never say this sort of thing out loud. “In those dark and foolish moments of extreme self-doubt. What if Celine was better in bed than me? What if she made him howl at the moon while I was only rated an okay? What if in the end that was why he chose her?”
He frowns.
“‘Could do better,’” I say in a somewhat plaintive voice. “I used to get that a lot in gym class at school. ‘If only she would apply herself.’”
“I’m pretty sure acing gym class doesn’t automatically mean you’ve got mad skills in bed.”
“But wouldn’t it suggest that I had stamina and a certain flexibility?”
“I’m sure there are plenty of gym class flunkies who do just fine in the sack.”
“Maybe.”
“Enthusiasm trumps dexterity every time.”
“Yeah. Think about it, though,” I say. “I’ve only slept with one person. What do I know about going wild in bed, really? Maybe I need more practice. More hands-on experience.”
“There’s a lot I could say to that, but none of it is probably appropriate or helpful right now. Continue on with your ruminating.” He swallows. “One question first. Was the sex even any good?”
I wrinkle my nose. “I think so. I mean, I have nothing to compare it to. Yet.”
“Right.”
“We were a couple within about five minutes after we met when I was a freshman.” I take a moment to think it over. So many memories both good and bad. “I guess I didn’t really know any better. Any high school boyfriends were fumbling-hands-type affairs. Boob gropes and valiant attempts to get their hands down my pants before curfew. Nothing serious.”
He just nods.
“This is my chance to do some sexing and catch up to the rest of the population.”
His brows rise. “That’s your plan?”
“Why not?” I ask. “The last thing I need right now is a serious relationship. Therefore it’s the perfect time to get me some.”
“Okay.” He looks away for a long moment. I’d pay serious money to know what’s on his mind. “No serious relationships, huh?”
“Just like you.”
“Sure,” he says, sounding a little hesitant for some reason. “Whatever makes you happy.”
“I guess we’ll see what makes me happy. Currently I have no real idea.”
“There’s no rush. Take your time,” he says, licking his lip. He has nice lips. “Ah, do you think you missed out on much, hooking up with him so early? In ways other than sex, I mean.”
“Maybe. Probably.” I think it over. “In a lot of ways I let him and our relationship define me. Not a mistake I’ll make again. You’ve got to be your own person separate of any coupledom. Have your own life and interests. I mean, look at how many friends I lost in the divorce because the situation was awkward or made them worry about their own relationship on some level or me on my own just didn’t fit with their perceptions of the world. I only made sense to them when I was part of a matching pair: ‘Ryan and Anna.’ It’s ridiculous. I need to be my own person and have my own friends.”
“I’ll be your friend, single girl.”
“Thank you. I’d be delighted to be your friend too.”
Enough about me. Time for a change of subject. “What were you like when you were younger?”
“Virginal and virtuous.” And he says it with such a straight face. “Those are the first two words that come to mind. Along with ‘very.’”
“Right.”
“Mostly I hung out in the back room at my uncle’s tattoo parlor with Ed. We met all sorts of people. It was an education.”
“I bet.”
“We’d draw tattoo design ideas and ask a million questions and generally get in the way,” he says. “Our older brother, Niels, was the sporting type. He was big into football. And Ed was more artistic than me. He was always painting the walls of his bedroom and doing the emo artist thing. I was the loudmouth out of the three of us. Always cracking jokes and trying to woo the girls, but not always successful.”