“What about this girl who’s coming to visit you?”
“What about her?”
“Well, is she just for sex or are you actually going to attempt to have some sort of relationship with her?”
“I dunno,” he said. “Haven’t given it any thought.”
So many things I could say. None of them seemed quite right or unbiased, however.
“So what if it’s just sex?” he said.
“Don’t you want more?”
“Got everything I need. You said I should try going out more. That’s what I’m doing. If I happen to be doing that with a girl I like to f**k, what’s the big deal? I got you to talk to, I don’t need a relationship, whatever you’re thinking that is.”
I rubbed at my eyes with the heels of my hands. Stupid sweat, so messy and inconvenient. Of all the human secretions to experience around him, he had to inflict this one upon me.
He just shook his head at my apparent foolishness. “So, what, you put out date three or four? There about?”
I stopped, staring at him with absolute wonder. “Do I ask you how often you jerk off, Jimmy?”
“Least once a day, lately.” He threw the information out there like it didn’t even matter. “My libido kind of disappeared there for a while but it’s back with a vengeance now. You’re probably right on with the dating idea because if I don’t get something soon I’m gonna break my f**king wrist.”
“Stop it!” I covered my ears, taking deep, even breaths. That was the key. Any lurid pictures of Jimmy fisting himself just could stay the hell right out of my mind, my dirty, smutty, way overly descriptive mind. “We’re not the kind of friends that talk about this stuff.”
“You take sex too seriously.”
I stopped trying to block him out given I couldn’t if I tired. “I do, huh?”
“Yes.” And his smile, oh god his smile, I wanted to wipe it off his face with a pickaxe. I’d be gentle, you could trust me.
“While you don’t take feelings seriously at all,” I said. “They’re a joke to you.”
“They’re not a joke to me. But the two don’t have to go together. That’s the mistake you make.”
“Oh, god, Jimmy, this is so clichéd. You’re the man whore and I’m the sensitive chick. And I’m not even particularly sensitive, for heaven’s sake, it’s just that compared to you …”
“Compared to me, what?”
“Well, you’re so repressed. You don’t let yourself feel anything until you’re boiling over and out of control.”
He shook his head, letting out a harsh breath. “Explain to me how the f**k me saying sex and emotions don’t have to go together lead to this point. Because you’re losing me.”
“Look, what you said is true enough,” I said. “Sex can be just a physical activity to make you feel good. I have no problem with that.”
He scoffed. “You just condemned me for that.”
“No. I just condemned you for insisting it could be nothing more than that. I just think you should have sex with people you actually like for a change. It might be refreshing for you.”
One thick shoulder twitched, I guess it was a shrug.
“You think I should have just slept with Dean last night then—on the first date?”
“Not saying that.” One of his tennis shoes pawed at the ground, big feral beast that he was. “I just think, talking about f**king or actually f**king shouldn’t be a big deal. It’s human nature, everyone does it.”
“Except for us.”
“Yeah, except for us. I had to clean the slate you know? Just strip everything back and start from scratch, get myself right,” he said with a sigh. “Though giving up sex was nothing in comparison to coc**ne. I felt like a god on that stuff, nothing could touch me. Stopping wasn’t easy.”
“No, I bet it wasn’t.”
He smiled at me, he actually double dimple smiled at me. Crap. Not only did my knees weaken but my toes curled it was so stunning, star shine and moonbeams couldn’t compare. Unicorns could take a flying f**k.
“So, Lena, darling, tell me, for curiosity’s sake. When do you put out?”
I stepped closer, going toe to toe with him. He got worried then, the dimples disappearing and his forehead creasing. So he f**king should.
“Jimmy, my love,” I said, my voice soft and sweet. “I don’t f**k a guy until he has the balls to actually man up and talk to me about his feelings.”
Laughter followed me for the better part of the jog back home.
# # #
The doorbell rang out just after two in the afternoon. Downstairs, the band and crew were making sweet music following a lunch consisting of everything we’d had in the fridge. I’d already alerted our suppliers to the need for more, pronto. With the guys working here all the time, our usual order could easily be tripled and then some. Mal alone seemed to eat his weight in food at each meal. How he then managed to jump around and pound the drums, I had no idea. I’d spent the day making myself useful. When they were recording, it made sense to just pitch in and help where I could. If that meant I made coffee and fetched sodas then so be it. Dean had come into work with them today, a happy bonus.
I jogged up the stairs, every part of me jiggling. Kindly note, however, I did not lose my breath, the jogging was starting to pay off. Yay me!
Just in case there was some random paparazzi hanging around I loosened my ponytail to hide my face. The security camera screen showed one lone statuesque woman looking ten types of awkward on the other side of the door. Big black sunglasses hid her face. Hmm, interesting.
“Hello?” I stood back, opening the door just wide enough to get a good look at her. Then my whole world stopped.
Liv. Fucking. Anders.
The film star.
That’s who Jimmy’s old friend was and she had obviously wasted no time in getting to Portland to catch up. My heart gradually restarted, slow and painful was the way. Six feet worth of trim and tanned with white blonde hair looked back at me from atop her designer eyewear. I’d be the dumpy brunette in jeans and a long sleeve T-shirt then. Lovely, please just ignore my pale and pasty skin. She wore cute strappy sandals despite the cold wet weather and even her pedicure was immaculate. For the sake of my pride, couldn’t the woman at least have a chipped nail or something? Surely, it wasn’t too much to ask for.
My own fault really, I guess that’s what you got for falling for a rock ’n’ roll Adonis. His ex-girlfriends or f**k buddies or whatever Liv was, were bound to be flawless. Why, the care he took with his hair was evidence enough. As if he’d stick a body bit into anything less than the best.