Page 69 of The Worst Guy Ever
“What happened? Why are you so sad?”
“Remember how we almost hooked up the night of your wedding?” I nod towards Kara.
“What?” she shrieks. Oops. I’d forgotten she was absent for that update. Megan presses her fingertips to her lips, she’d clearly forgotten too.
“Um, yeah, you know how you gave me your key to the honeymoon suite?”
“Yes?” she says, eyes wide, her fingers digging into my forearm.
“I don’t think you realised, but Luke had given his key to Rob. So he turned up shortly after me, and I was in a shit mood and pretty drunk so I let him make a move, but thankfully Megan called because I had her house keys. I got a cab home and left him there.”
“Oh boy. I have a confession to make,” she says with a grimace. “We did that on purpose.”
“You set us up?” I sit upright and pull my knees to my chest.
“I’m sorry, Luke and I figured it was inevitable and that you might both welcome a little nudge.”
I cannot believe what I am hearing. “And you told me off for meddling in your love life?”
It wasn’t so long ago Megan and I helped Luke come up with a plan to win Kara over by recreating a fake date from her favourite book, but it was so obvious to us all that she needed a little push, and look where’s it’s gotten them. Married, and happily so.
“I’m sorry, we were pretty drunk too. It seemed like a good idea. But it sounds like it didn’t go anywhere? So what happened last night?”
Oh God, this is so pathetic to explain. I rip the band-aid off and get it out fast. “Last week he sabotaged a date I was on, and so I went to his house and told him he owed me an orgasm.”
“Excuse me?” Megan gasps.
“Oh Jesus, that’s hot,” says Kara. “That’s proper enemies-to-lovers stuff.”
Of course she would view the mess that is my life through the lens of romance novel.
“Shush, you. I was just angry at him, I didn’t think anything would happen. But then he agreed, and said he’d arrange a night away for us. He picked me up last night and drove me back to the hotel so we could‘finish what we started’.He booked the same room and everything.”
“I’m sorry. Are you telling me Rob booked the honeymoon suite for your one night stand?”
I nod. “And it was awful, because I was nervous, but he was so patient and encouraging. He showered with me, and gave me a massage, then, you know.” I can’t even say it out loud. “And you know me, I don’t do sleepovers, so I tried to leave but somehow he mind-tricked me and convinced me to stay. Then this morning he went down on me while I drank my coffee. So, now I think I’m addicted to his penis, but every time I think about it I want to cry.”
“He went down on you while you drank your coffee?” Kara stares at me, mouth wide open.
“Yes,” I half sob, half laugh.
“You lucky cow,” Megan says.
“Not lucky. Cursed. I think he’s ruined me for other men.” Genuinely, how am I supposed to get by with some random Ben, Rich, or Matty, knowing that I’ve had a night like that? It is deeply depressing to know that I could sleep with a thousand more men and none would make me feel as good as he did.
“Do you think I’m a terrible person for sleeping around so much?” I ask, slumping back under my blanket.
“Absolutely not,” Megan says. “I wish I had even an ounce of your confidence.”
Kara agrees. “I think you’re amazing Hattie. I’ve always loved the way you’re so independent and do things your way.”
“How long can I keep this up, though, really? You must be sick of my shit.”
Kara pulls me into a hug and Megan rubs my back. They attempt to pacify me with words of kindness, but nothing can cut through the murk I’ve kicked up inside my head.
First David joins my favourite client, and I still haven’t managed to figure out how he’s casually destroyed the career I’ve worked so hard for. Now I’ve bumped into another married man, which takes the number of people’s husbands I’ve been to bed with to two. And that’s only the ones I know of. It’s a horrible thought, but I know there are probably more, and all because I like a quick round of pass the orgasm?
It’s not fair. I bet these men aren’t sitting in on a Saturday night feeling shit about themselves, even though they’ve got way more at stake than I do. This behaviour might have been cute in my twenties, a series of scandalous stories to share in the pub, but I’m getting older. Forty will be here before I know it, and then what?
