Page 31 of The Bridges I've Burned

That was the Reader’s Digest version of what had happened, but it would do.

“This sort of shit always happens to you.” She gaped at me.

Now, it was my time to roll my eyes. She thought stories like this were thrilling, like I was Carrie Bradshaw and this was my real-life version of Sex and the City, but she wasn’t the one who went home after endless bad dates, feeling miserable and alone.

There was nothing glamorous about it.

“He seemed nice, and it wasn’t like I was going to sleep with him,” I reiterated, mostly for myself.

“He was hot, wasn’t he?” A knowing grin spread across her face.

I looked anywhere but at her, but finally caved. “Yes, okay? He was fucking gorgeous. Like, Adam Levine fine.”

“Tattoos and everything?”

I nodded.

“Wait, are we talking blond Adam, sophisticated Adam, or, like, shirtless-rock-star Adam?”

I stared at her blankly. “I didn’t realize you had such an Adam Levine fetish.”

She laughed. “I’m just asking.” She paused. “For reference. I need to make sure I get the right picture in my head. Details are important.”

I smirked. “Mmhmm. Well, he definitely wasn’t blond. Or shirtless.”

“Well, that’s unfortunate. For you,” she clarified with a laugh.

“He actually looked kind of like he was hiding. Maybe he was a celebrity.” I giggled. “You know, with how they wear baseball caps and hoodies.”

“You mean to tell me you could have hooked up with a celebrity and you didn’t?”

“I told you,” I huffed, sitting up straighter on the stool while she moved around the kitchen, grabbing us mugs. “This was not a hookup, and he was not a celebrity.” At least I didn’t think he was.

She glanced back at me, giving me a mischievous grin.

“Besides, I have a man ban for this vacation.”

She fully turned, two mugs frozen in her hands. “A man ban?”

I nodded. “Yep. No dates, no hookups. Just me and my trusty battery-operated boyfriend.”

She grimaced. “Gross.”

“Self-care is not gross, Marin. How many times do I have to tell you this? Just because you have a permanent man in your life now doesn’t mean you don’t have to stop?—”

She held out her hand, silencing me. Marin had always been a little shy when talking about sex, which always amused me—because like I’d said, I’d heard things, and Marin was not innocent.

Not. At. All.

“So”—she overemphasized the word, making me laugh—“you and this mystery man just ordered food and talked? What was his name?”

I shrugged. “I told him I didn’t want to know. No names, no personal stuff.”

“That’s…weird.”

“It was nice.” Although I was a little sad about it now.

“And then the two of you just parted ways?”

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