Page 35 of Business or Pleasure

“While I was watching Ted Lasso?”

I press my lips together, nodding. “I know we said it would just be ‘a few pointers,’ but I thought it might make things easier, and we’re doing the same for the memoir, so...”

He grins at this. “That’s kind of amazing. I’m both impressed and intrigued.”

I swipe around on my phone before passing it to him. “It’s a work in progress. We can adjust it based on whatever you want to work on or whatever we feel like needs more attention.”

It all makes perfect logical sense—at least, I think so. We’ll start with kissing, then gradually add various forms of foreplay, with roman numeral sections devoted specifically to topics like oral sex and dirty talk. A sexual lesson plan.

“This is...” Finn starts, staring down at it.

The panic sets in. I went overboard, classic Chandler Cohen overthinking.

“...extremely thorough,” he finishes. “Wow. I’m kind of touched?”

Slow exhale. In part, this felt like a way to soften any lingering anxiety. Most of all, though, it just felt natural. I’m a writer—all my finished products start with an outline, and any good book needs proper buildup. You can’t jump to the climax right away, and Finn especially needs some time with the early chapters.

“I’ll send it to you,” I say. “There are some links to diagrams, too, and a list of podcasts and sexfluencers I really like—and before you ask, yes, that’s a thing. And I was thinking, each time, that we could have both a discussion and then a practical portion.” It’s possible I’m making it sound too structured. “I mean—if that doesn’t seem overly formal. That way, we can talk through everything and really ease into it.”

Finn doesn’t protest. He just glances at the phone and then back at me, mouth quirking upward. “I didn’t think I could be so turned on by a Google Doc.”

We decide to meet in my room in half an hour, after we’ve cleaned up dinner and I’ve spent approximately seven minutes brushing my teeth. I’m not sure how one prepares for a scheduled make-out with a former TV star, but oral hygiene seems as good a place to start as any.

In a way, it’s a chance to rewrite our history. If I ever feel like I’m floundering, I remind myself I have that outline for guidance. I can absolutely live in the moment—as long as I have a backup plan.

Because if I can do this, then I can march back to Seattle with my head high, shoulders unscrunched. I’ll be a Woman Evolved, unafraid of taking chances and leaving my comfort zone in the dust.

A knock on the door interrupts my mental pep talk.

With a deep breath, I pull it open, and I’m immediately hit with the scent of Finn’s aftershave, woodsy and warm, with a hint of spice. He’s changed into a navy T-shirt, his freckled cheeks tinged pink and his hair damp from a shower. Instantly I feel less clean, running a hand through my hair and hoping I don’t sweat through my extra layer of deodorant.

“Hi,” he says, at least a hundred times sturdier than I feel.

“Hi. Welcome to this side of the house. It’s unfortunately just as hot as the rest of the house.”

“I don’t mind.”

A half smile as he follows me to the bed, where we proceed to sit in silence for a good ten seconds.

Until I burst out laughing. “Sorry. I swear, it’s not you.”

“We don’t have to do this,” he says. “Really. If you don’t want to—”

Before I can overthink it, before my brain gets the better of me, I lean in and kiss him. As fearlessly as possible, just like I did that first night.

It’s true, he’s not a bad kisser. It feels clumsy only for the first few seconds, and then we exhale into it, deepening the kiss. The fresh mint of his toothpaste, the warmth of his mouth as it opens against mine. There’s a familiarity to it, the two of us becoming reacquainted.

He’s the first to draw back, with a force that leaves me slightly breathless.

“How was that?” he asks, smirking a little.

“Not bad.” The room spins, and I have to blink a few times to settle back into my own skin.

The next time his mouth meets mine, his hands start to wander. One of them goes to my waist, curving around to my ass, while the other migrates up toward my breasts. Just like the first time, he’s too eager for the next step. It’s not unpleasant, exactly— it’s just too soon for me.

Gently, I reach down and slide one hand back to my waist. He gets the message, dropping his other hand from my chest and into his lap. But I can tell he’s not sure what to do with them.

“You can touch me,” I say gently, realizing only when the words are out how desperate I am for it. “But let’s make certain body parts off-limits.”

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