Page 31 of Good For Me

Twenty minutes later we’ve both changed into t-shirts and yoga pants and are lounging on the couch, eating our share of the wings Brie brought home from work. We’re two margaritas in and I’m starting to feel relaxed for the first time since I woke up next to a sleeping, very naked River Ransome yesterday and remembered what happened.

“Okay,” she says, pointing a sauce-covered wing in my direction. “Start talking.”

“Kurt cheated on me.”

She freezes, the wing still hovering in mid-air. “What?”

“I decided to bring him lunch,” I say, shaking my head, the waves of shame washing over me yet again. “His secretary wasn’t at her desk so I just walked in.” I down half my glass. “Turns out she wasn’t at her desk because she was on top of his. With her legs spread.”

“Holy fuck!” Brie yelps, moving to stand. “I’m going to fucking kill him. I’m going to rip his balls off and—”

I place a hand on her arm. “He’s not worth it. I just wish it hadn’t taken me so long to figure that out.”

Her face is filled with sympathy as she looks at me. “Shit, Jassy. I’m so sorry. You know I never liked the guy, but this is just…what anasshole!”

I nod, taking another long sip. “I think the worst part is what a cliché it is, you know? His secretary? It isn’t even original.”

She studies me but doesn’t respond so I finish off my drink and reach for the pitcher.

“And where does River Ransome come into this?”

“He was here when I came in Friday night—”

She chokes on her margarita and I have to pound on her back. “Hang on,” she rasps out when she can speak. “This happened on Friday?” I nod. “You caught him cheating on yourbirthday?” Her eyes narrow. “Now I’m really going to kick his ass.”

“Again, not worth it.”

She clearly disagrees, but manages not to argue. “Fine. So you came to the bar after you caught your twatwaffle ex banging his secretary. On your birthday. What happened next?”

I think about the events of that night. River bringing me the god-awful unicorn drink because he said we needed to celebrate. Agreeing to go out somewhere with him to get my mind off things. The surprise of him taking me to his grandmother’s kitschy little bar. Dancing with him under the lanterns. Walking on the beach. Ending up in his bed.

For some reason, I don’t want to share all of that with Brie. The girl has been my best friend since elementary school, and we’ve always talked about everything, but my night with River seems private somehow.

So instead I shrug my shoulders and adopt as casual a tone as I can muster. “He said he was going to cheer me up. We had a drink, then we went to another bar after his shift and we drank some more. He seemed like he was into me so I decided to go for it.”

She snorts. “He seemed like he was into you, huh?”

I raise an eyebrow. “Yes, he seemed—”

She throws up her hands, apparently forgetting that she’s holding a margarita glass because liquid flies out to splash her pants.

“Oops,” she says. Then, instead of cleaning it up, she sets the rest of the drink down so she can throw her hands up again.

“Your comment requires two hand flails?” I ask.

“As a matter of fact, it does. I speak with my hands. I’m Italian. Get over it.”

I feel a surge of affection for her—until she continues. “Of course he seemed into you, you moron. That guy is obsessed with you.”

“What are you talking about? He’s not obsessed with me.”

She rolls her eyes so hard I’m concerned she might pull a muscle. “You are not that blind, Jassy. Every time I’ve been in this bar with you since he started working here he can’t keep his eyes off you. Everyone notices.”

“That’s silly. He—”

“Is obsessed with you,” she repeats.

I shake my head, not liking the way her words make me feel. “If he was obsessed with anything, it was getting in my pants. He’s used to women falling at his feet. I’m probably the only girl he’s ever been attracted to who didn’t immediately volunteer to jump into bed with him.” I shrug. “Now that’s not the case anymore, he’s probably already over it.”