Page 58 of Bombshells
“It’s just a feeling I get. But what about you? And how was the sex?”
My cheeks burn. “You ask a lot of questions.”
“That good, huh?” She steals a strip of bacon off my plate.
“It was the best of my life,” I say, which is obviously ridiculous, since it was the only sex of my life.
But Fiona doesn’t know that. And somehow I suspect that it will remain true. I’ll probably be eighty-one years old and playing cards at the retirement home. And I’ll still be able to picture Anton’s hungry expression as he hovers over me and…
I pick up my glass of ice water and drink half of it in one go.
“Would you like my ice water as well?” Fiona asks with a knowing smirk. “We could ask for a whole pitcher of ice. Excuse me, miss?” She pretends to look around for the waitress.
“Stop.” I give her a kick under the table. “It’s warm in here.”
“If you say so.” She tosses her hair. “So what made it so amazing?”
“Just everything.” Even if I were accustomed to talking about my sex life, I still wouldn’t be able to explain how completely overwhelming the experience was. From the moment he touched me to unpin my dress, the intimacy of it all came as a surprise.
It was so much more than skill and nerve endings. I have such tender feelings for Anton this morning. I don’t know how to describe them. But I doubt he feels the same way about me.
“I think Anton is out of my league,” I confess.
“What? That’s ridiculous. Nobody is out of your league. And, PS, if he thought so, he wouldn’t have taken a shot on your net.”
I giggle like an idiot at the innuendo.
“And why are you so convinced that he wouldn’t like a rematch?”
“Because we’re just friends? Or I thought we were? I’m pretty confused. I haven’t wrapped my head around it yet.”
“Hmm. So if Anton called you tonight and said, ‘Hey Sylvie, I can’t wait to spend more time with you,’ how would you feel?”
“Lucky.” And delighted. Like a helium balloon floating upward towards a blue sky.
“Well, that’s revealing.” She plays with her fork. “And what if it was Bryce who called right this second, apologizing for his stupidity, and asking you to date him seriously. How would you feel?”
“Stunned,” I grumble. “I’d ask if he had the wrong number.”
“You’re angry at him,” Fiona says. “Too angry to shout at each other for a while before some sweaty make-up sex?”
“I am still angry,” I say slowly. “But anger fades.” The problem is that I can’t picture a reality where Bryce and sweaty make-up sex belong in the same sentence. When I pictured us together, it was always kind of sweet and quiet. And maybe just a little boring.
You wouldn’t think that a single one-night stand could change my life’s trajectory. But you’d be wrong. Last night was a real education.
“Are you going to tell Bryce about your hookup?” Fiona asks.
“Hell no!” My vehemence startles the old lady at the table next to me, so I drop my voice. “It’s none of his business.”
“Would he be upset?”
“Yes,” I say immediately. “But only out of concern for me. And I’m so tired of his concerns. He doesn’t love me, except as a friend. I think I realized it the minute he spotted us in the tunnel that day after our first practice. There was no joy.”
Fiona sips her coffee, a thoughtful expression on her face. “That man isn’t easy to figure out, I’ll give you that. Joy doesn’t seem to be part of his vocabulary.”
“He can be joyful.” It’s funny how quickly I will jump to his defense. But I know Bryce very well. He’s a wonderful man. It’s just that I’m no longer sure if he’s wonderful for me. “I don’t want to be anybody’s project, you know? I want a man who loves me so desperately that it hurts him to be apart. Bryce is not that man.”
“Not so much,” Fiona says gently.
