Page 81 of Resurrection
"Three words, huh? Not bad." Sonia leans against a shelf, looking like she's settled in for the juicy details. "You only need two to have great sex."
"I don’t want to know which ones. Besides, who says Tyler is great in bed? Maybe he sucks."
"Oh, honey," Sonia says in a mocking tone. "A man that hot and that good on a guitar? He probably knows a thing or two about making you squirm. Otherwise, it'd be a waste of talent."
I blush. All these years later, I still remember the firm press of his body and the salty taste of him. You don’t forget your first.
"You’re ridiculous," I say.
"I know, but I want you to be happy, and I think unless you do something about all this tension between you and your high school sweetheart, you won’t get any closure. I also know you're not someone to take my advice, so don’t think of it as advice. I’m just sharing my thoughts. You decide for yourself what works for you."
"It's distracting."
"What exactly is distracting?"
"The whole thing." I wave my hand like it's going to explain anything. "I wasn't supposed to get tangled up in him again."
"Hearts and brains have a way of screwing with the best-laid plans."
"What if I fall for him again?" I ask, feeling the knot in my stomach tightening. "What if he breaks my heart all over again?"
"But what if this time is different?" she counters, ever the optimist. "There must be a reason why you two keep crossing paths."
I let out a long breath as if it might carry all my worries with it. "What if revenge isn’t worth it?"
Her mouth quirks up. "And what if it is?" She watches me for a moment, her expression softer now. "You're overthinking this," she says.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and my heart jumps like it's a living thing trying to escape. It's just a work email, but it gets me thinking about Ty again, and I'm back to pacing the kitchen, working up the courage to do what I probably shouldn't do.
Sonia doesn't take her eyes off me, which is both comforting and annoying. "You're won't know anything until you see him again," she says.
"I guess," I reply, though it comes out sounding more like a question. "I just don't want to open that can of worms."
"Or box of jalapeños," she teases. "Just open it already."
"Easy for you to say."
Sonia smiles and returns to her papers, giving me some space to wrestle with myself. My fingers hover over my phone, and I tap out a text, only to delete it before it's even done. This cycle repeats more times than I'd like to admit.
I’ve never contacted this number. My mother gave it to me forever ago and said it was for Tyler’s cell and she’d gotten it from his parents. I can’t believe he never changed it. But neither have I. I’ve had the same number ever since I got my first cell phone. Maybe I secretly hoped he’d reach out.
He did.
Twice.
In seventeen years.
And both times, he was drunk.
Finally, on my fifth attempt at composing the text, I feel satisfied with the content. I look at it once more before hitting Send.
Meet me at the casino at 9 pm.
The lobby is a glittering jungle, all blinking lights and the soft roar of voices. I'm out of my element, shifting from foot to foot as people swirl around me, going about their business.
I have my trusty purse in hand, and I’m wearing khakis and a plain white shirt—not exactly red-carpet attire. But seeing him wasn't on tonight's agenda. I was dressed for the grind, not romance.
I’m regretting that text already, but I don’t have the guts to cancel. I depleted all my courage by using that damn number that I had saved in my contacts underBiggest Disappointment Ever.
