Page 8 of Creamy

He didn’t hurt me—that bad.

Except that he ran off with your mom, a little voice coos, reminding me of the unforgettable. And your dad.

My grimace turns to a cringe.

Don’t forget the family dog, Spunkers.

I flinch. Fuck. Somehow, the damn dog hurt the worst.

She squints at me, her toe tapping in frustration. “Healed, are you?”

I bob my head absently, my mind too busy doing everything in its power to drag me down memory lane.

I lost my entire family in the blink of an eye, all because I wanted to bring my boyfriend home for Christmas. By New Years, Chadwick had broken up with me, stating he’d found someone else that made him happier. Gave him things I never could. It wasn’t until they sent out a family Easter card that I realized the truth.

Apparently, what I couldn’t give him was a geriatric three-way.

“And you're definitely not thinking about them, right?” I shake my head. Nope. Hell no. She clicks her tongue. “Fine. What’s the new fuckers’ name?”

A small smile crawls across my face. “Bud.”

Lyric nods woodenly. “And what does Bud do for a living?”

I shrug. “Didn’t get that far.” Truth be told, there’s not much information Bud and I exchanged beyond the basics. He asked the usual questions: Age? 32. Sex? Yes, fucking please. Location? Your bed or mine. Maybe a desk, or fuck, backseat of your Prius. Whatever, whenever, wherever.

Just as long as I can escape in the sweet bliss of orgasmic pleasure for a little while, I can turn my overactive brain off. It seems the only time I can quiet my mind is when my body is screaming with ecstasy. I’m perfectly aware it’s not a healthy coping mechanism.

“Story…” She starts, trailing off with a frustrated huff.

Instead of letting her start on a second reality check, I snatch her up and bundle her in my arms. Patting her head, I murmur words I hope will ease her worries. “I’m good. Promise. Tonight will be great. I’ll get in, get off, and get out. Then tomorrow, I’ll delete the app and take a break from dating.”

She squeezes me hard, then pulls away. “Promise?”

“Pinky swear.” I offer her my finger. “After tonight, I’m done with men.”

Lyric wraps her tiny finger around mine and we lean in, kissing our thumbs in a practiced bestie move. “Good. You’ll feel better.”

I smile, but my heart twists at the idea of being truly alone. I don’t know if I can do it, but for her, and fuck, maybe for me, I have to try.

No more men, starting tomorrow.

My smile turns to a cheshire grin.

But tonight, Bud is taking his skin boat to tuna town, and I can’t fucking wait!

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