Page 73 of The Wrong Heart

Magnolia:Stew in my loneliness and complain to you, apparently.

Me:Cop-out. The Magnolia I know stopped wilting a long time ago.

Magnolia:Maybe.

Falling against the chairback with a heavy breath, I roll it side to side, chewing on my lip as I ponder a response.

And then that response comes spewing out of me like vomit.

Me:Advice time. Here it comes…

Magnolia:Oh, boy.

Me:I think you need to go have sex. Raw, dirty, messy sex. The hair-pulling, biting, scratching kind. The kind that turns you inside-out and reinvents you. You need to come so hard, you forget about everything else, and you shatter into a million pieces, blinded by stars and galaxies, until you’re fucking free-falling, levitating, weightless. Screaming and begging. And the only thing you can think about is doing it all over again.

I click send before thinking it through, and then I have instant regret. Especially after three solid minutes tick by and nothing.

Fuck.

What the hell was that? Where did it come from?

I’ve never experienced that shit before. Is that what…Iwant?

Wondering if I scared her the fuck away, I attempt to fill the silence.

Me:I lose you? Too much?

She finally responds.

Magnolia:No. I’m just sitting here trying to figure out if that was supposed to be a suggestion or an offer.

Wait…what?

I blink at the screen, scanning over her words at least a dozen times.

Double fuck.

I’m not sure what the hell to say to that, as it was entirely unexpected, so naturally, I continue to spew more absurdity.

Me:What do you want it to be?

Magnolia:I’m trying to figure that out, too.

I rub both palms up and down my face with a strained exhale.

Triple fuck.

This conversation has taken multiple wrong turns into Too-Many-Fucks-To-Count-Ville, and I’m not sure how to get back on track. The truth is, I don’t want to screw up what we have right now because I genuinelylikewhat we have. I don’t have to carry around my heavy armor and back-breaking baggage. I can be…free.

Taking our relationship in a sexual direction will only mess it all up, and I’ll lose that.

I’ve lost enough.

Me:You know we can’t do that.

Her disappointment radiates through the laptop before her words even appear.

Magnolia:I suppose you’re right. I’m sorry.

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