Page 108 of Yes No Maybe

I close her inside the car just as my phone pings—another alert from theDaisy Chain. Rose and Vernon have been active since we arrived home, posting pics of our signs coming down and the subsequent reply-alls of relief and happiness from the neighborhood.

I groan, getting in the driver’s seat as I eye the newest alert—it’s us five minutes ago at her door. Of course, that’s nothing compared to the one they sent this morning—me in a towel on my lawn arguing with Rowan. I must talk to them about boundaries.

Rowan sighs, switching her phone to silent. “Let’s add no neighborhood talk to our shortlist. Huh?”

“Agreed.” I flip my phone to silent, too.

I take her to Billy’s Cape Side, tucked alongside the Cape Fear River on the outskirts of downtown, with ample parking out front, so she doesn’t need to walk far. We’re seated on the back deck under wide-reaching oaks draped in swaying Spanish moss that crowd the riverbank. Sunset glitters on the calm water like it’s been gone over with a gold-tipped brush and mimics the glow of the small lantern on our table. A lone blue heron stands regally at the edge of the bank, on guard, it seems. Or perhaps, just enjoying the view.

“Does this qualify as flip-flop casual?”

“It’s perfect.” She sips her frosty beer and ponders the menu. “So, no books. No neighbors. Whatever will we talk about?”

“Sex?” The word pops out as a joke, but I immediately regret it. Yes, it’s on my mind—it always is when I’m with her—but I feel like an ass for mentioning it. “Shit. Sorry. That’s inappropriate first date talk.”

“No, it isn’t.” Her crystalline eyes narrow, and her head tilts in a question. “We should be able to talk about anything, right?”

“Yes, but I was only joking. We don’t have to go there yet.”

“Too late to take it back now.” She leans forward, peering at me with a daring grin. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything. Anything,” I say honestly, hunting for the right question. “Let’s start with something easy. Best sex ever.”

She laughs before taking a healthy chug of her beer. The waitress appears, pen in hand.

“Want to share a pizza?” I ask when she seems puzzled over what to order.

“Absolutely,” Rowan says.

I order a margherita pizza and another round. The waitress bounces off, and I take in the other diners on the patio—a family of five takes the long table in the far corner, an older couple eyes us from the middle, and two twenty-somethings laugh over mixed drinks at the bar. It’s a slow weekday night.

“Robbie Jones,” she announces, bringing my eyes to hers. “I was seventeen. We were stationed at Fort Eustis in Virginia then. Robbie and I would sneak out of our houses and meet at the park. He was clumsy and awkward but was the first guy who didn’t mind this.”

She motions to her face with a light wave of her hand. “One night, we talked until late. It started drizzling. Lying in the damp grass, looking up at the stars, it happened so naturally that sex seemed part of our conversation, gentle and easy. He was also… attentive, not what I expected.” She glances upwards in consideration. “I often wondered if he studied for it like he would a test.”

“Probably. All teenage boysstudyfor it,” I say, putting the wordstudyin air quotes.

She laughs. “It paid off for me—I had the best time. Those two months with Robbie are still the best relationship I’ve ever had. So, I’m one of the few weirdos alive who can say her best sex was her first time.”

“Thatisa rarity. What happened with Robbie?”

“Oh, what always happened. We moved.” She shifts her leg under the table, wincing.

“Give me your leg,” I say, motioning under the table. “It needs to be elevated.”

She looks suspicious. “Are you sure?”

“Definitely.”

She kicks off her flip-flop and gingerly eases her foot against my leg. I rest my hand over it, letting my fingers run gently along the top, massaging her. She looks as surprised by my attentiveness as she was by Robbie’s.

“I haven’t had the best partners,” she admits, shrugging. “Trent was… rough and angry, triggering, and had me running to a therapist, where I discovered that in a good relationship, I’m actually hyper-sexual because it makes me feel beautiful, and few things do.”

I shut my gaping mouth as soon as I realize I’m doing it. Not only is my girlfriend—is it all right to call her that?—truly amazing, but the alluring confidence that drew me to her in the first place has returned with renewed energy.

Her eyes narrow as she studies me. “Too much information?”

“God, no. I love your openness.”

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