Page 57 of Whiskey Splash

I stop, wanting to write more but not daring to.

Arie:You’re overthinking again.

Esme:Old habits die hard.

Arie:Just spit it out.

Esme:What if he breaks my heart?

Arie:You’re getting too far ahead of yourself. He can’t break your heart until you give it to him. You can’t give it to him unless you give him a chance. And maybe he’s not worth your heart. But you won’t know that if you don’t try.

Esme:Are you about to give me a Yoda lecture about not trying but doing?

Arie:Nope, I’m going to give you a lecture about getting yourself some more orgasms. Because girl, you freaking deserve some!

Esme:Good thing you’re a good chef and not the writer of an advice column.

Arie:You think that was shit advice?

Esme:Better than a fortune cookie.

Arie:I see orgasms in your future.

Esme:Ha. Ha.

A phone number shows up on my screen.

Esme:What’s this?

Arie:Desmond’s phone number.

Esme:HOW do you have Desmond’s phone number!?

Arie:The same way he had your yoga schedule. We traded secret weapons.

Esme:I thought your secret weapon was waxing.

Arie:Oh, it is. And after the story you told me, dear sister, I’m pretty sure you fully appreciate the full caliber of said secret weapon.

Esme:Maybe.

Aire:Call him!

Esme:And say what?

Arie:Dear Desmond, No salacious photos showed up on the internet today. Maybe we need a second round to finish what we started. Orgasmically yours, Esme.

Esme:Ha ha.

Arie:P.S. I very much liked coming on your face, you’re such a gentleman.

Esme:I don’t know why I bother to ask you anything.

Arie:Because you know I’ll always tell you the truth. And the truth hurts. Remember … ask for what you want. Now piss off, I’ve got a restaurant to run.

Esme:I love you.

Arie:Ditto.

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