Inside was my list of firsts.
I shoved my carry-on into the footwell and flopped onto my seat. People were still boarding the plane, and I prayed that the seats beside me remained vacant.
Blocking out the screaming baby somewhere ahead of me, I turned to the page with the heading Six Months of Sin and huffed. So much for that. I’d only had three and a half months in the end—about fifteen weeks.
Fifteen weeks! It was hard to believe how much had happened in that time.
I read down my list of twenty-five firsts and savored those moments in my mind all over again. There were so many more firsts that needed to be added to this list. Using my feet, I pulled my backpack up, grabbed a pen from it, and shoved it back into place.
The last one I’d written on my list was:
25) First time I’d spent the night spooning a naked man.
That was ironic. I’d done it for the first time in July with Pierre. I’d probably spooned a man for the last time in my life with Roman three days ago. I shook my head.
Shoving that shit aside, I kept going with my list. I’d done some fun things, lots of fun things, and I wanted to write them down. No, I needed to write them down. If I didn’t, it would be like they’d never happened.
I took my mind back to August and smiling, I wrote:
26) First time I’d been lingerie shopping.
I certainly didn’t plan on making it my last though. I loved how the sexy lace made me feel. No more boulder holders for me.
27) First time buying condoms.
What a waste that had been. I’d thrown the pack out with all my things in London. I hadn’t even used one of them. How ridiculous that I’d bought a bulk pack.
My gut cramped, and acid shot up my throat at my next first.
28) First time I’d had sex with a married man.
And definitely my last. Writing it down made my brain bleed. Fucking Pierre. I hoped that bastard rotted in hell.
Before I took three sleeping tablets and wiped out the next eighteen hours, I moved onto my next first and wrote:
29) First time I’d streaked up a street naked.
A giggle burst from my throat. I still couldn’t believe the only piece of clothing I’d grabbed from the floor was an apron. It was a wonder I hadn’t been arrested. That would have been a first I wouldn’t have wanted on my list either. It would have been as bad as fucking Pierre. Following that thought, I wrote:
30) First time kicking a man in the balls.
Damn, that’d felt good.
From there, I moved on to the fun stuff.
31) First time I ate Brazilian cuisine, churrasco style.
32) First time I danced in a Brazilian nightclub.
That already seemed like months ago.
Oooh. Next stop was Thorsteinn Castle.
33) First orgasm in a hot tub. Make that multiple orgasms. With a count, no less.
In the Swiss Alps, I’d done my?—
34) First mountain hike.