by Claire Adams
“He’s kind of short, don’t you think?” Amy said as if she could read my mind.
“But he’s hot,” said Lisa.
“Then, you go get his number!” said Amy.
We all took sips of our respective drinks. I kept my head steady because whenever I moved it too much, the room would move with it.
“He was looking at my tits when I went up there,” said Lisa.
“You have a song coming up, don’t you?” I reminded Lisa.
“And I’m still waiting for my California rolls, for fuck’s sake!” said Lisa.
I kept pushing my plate of unfinished sushi towards her, but she wouldn’t accept.
“So, how’ve you been, Hannah?” Amy asked me.
That was one of the rare times in my life where I literally could not figure out the correct answer to that simple question.
“I’m okay, actually,” I said. “I’ve only seen Jared once since the breakup. He was being a real fucking jerk, as a matter of fact.”
“What did you guys talk about?” Lisa asked.
“Oh gosh, I think I’m too tipsy to talk about it,” I laughed.
“Did he say he was sorry that he cheated?” Amy asked.
My mind went back to that awful conversation he and I had last week. I had no intention of spoiling the night, and I knew if I talked about Jared too much, the night would inevitably begin to revolve around that.
“No,” I said finally. “But I don’t care.”
“Wow,” said Lisa. “I’m… kind of surprised that you’re handling all of this so well! You guys were together for like six months!”
The couple on the stage had finished their duet. Applause rang through the room.
“Really, hon, it’s okay if you want to talk about it,” said Amy with a reassuring pat on my arm.
“You know, really, I think I’d rather not talk about it,” I said. “What’s the use?”
The Bauman’s employee who was running karaoke stepped up to the microphone. “All right, next up: Lisa! Come on down!”
“Woo!” Lisa exclaimed. “Fuck yeah!”
She rushed up to the stage, and within seconds, she was belting out a Beyoncé track that I didn’t recognize. She sounded pretty good. Amy and I would periodically shout out words of support and clap for her.
“I think I’m just done with men,” I said to Amy. “Honestly, I’m not even that sad about Jared and me anymore.”
“But what did he say to you?” Amy asked.
“You probably wouldn’t believe me if I told you. Lisa’s right; it was for the best. Now I don’t have to waste my time with a guy who doesn’t want to be in a relationship with me. I deserve better than that shit.”
“Hell yes, you do!” said Amy.
Lisa tried hitting a high note with hilarious results. I took a bite of my sushi, just as our waitress came by with Lisa’s aforementioned California rolls.
“Guys are way more trouble than they’re worth, anyway,” I added.
“I’m not going to argue with that,” said Amy.
“I don’t need to worry about finding the perfect guy,” I said. “There is no such thing as ‘the perfect guy!’ And…” my thoughts drifted to Sawyer, “I don’t even need a ‘perfect man’… I just want a man. I’m tired of these boys and their bullshit!”
“Hell yeah, girl,” said Amy.
“Let’s not talk about me anymore,” I said, just as Lisa was finishing her song. “Got any guy stories to tell me?”
“Nothing exciting,” Amy answered. “Just a couple of dates. Nothing really to write home about.”
Amy didn’t usually go on many dates because she, like I, didn’t just go from one guy to the next. Amy only had dated a handful of guys; she rarely even used the term “boyfriend” unless he had been around for a few months. I knew that she wanted to be married, but I also knew that she was a practical and patient woman. She would often say, “When it’s right, I’ll know it.” That always sounded good to me when I would hear it, but in practice, it wasn’t easy. With each subsequent relationship that failed, I felt like I knew less and less what I really wanted.
Lisa, on the other hand, would tend to flit from man to man, never becoming seriously invested, emotionally or otherwise. For a while, she used to say that she didn’t like being in relationships because they always led to someone getting hurt. I used to think that maybe someone had hurt her before, but she had never confirmed that theory. Lately, she would elaborate on her feelings by saying that she thought it was more fun to experience different people sexually, since “you only live once,” or something to that effect.
“I fucking killed it!” Lisa shouted at us as she returned to our table. “Ooh, food!”
“There is a guy in my complex that I think is kind of cute,” Amy said to me.
Get the fuck out of here, I thought to myself.
“Ooh, what’s his name?” Lisa asked with a mouthful of California roll.
“I don’t know his name, but he lives on my floor,” Amy replied. “Super hot, too; he works out a lot in our fitness center. There’s been more than one occasion where I’ve watched him work.”
“Ha!” I laughed. “Those are some pretty weird coincidences!”
“What do you mean?” asked Amy.
I was getting tipsier by the minute, and at that moment, I didn’t care. “There is a fine guy living… in my apartment… right now—complex. Apartment complex.”
Amy and Lisa grew intrigued.
“There’s a guy living with you right now?” Lisa asked.
I considered, but I didn’t care. “I was going to fib a little, but I can’t do that to you girls. You want to hear a fucking crazy story?”
Over the next few songs from the karaoke stage, I filled them in on who Sawyer was and how he came to live in my guest room. After gasps and looks of shock and general amusement, I eventually told them about the bet and how I had been handling it.
When I was finally done, I was sipping on a new drink and awaiting Amy and Lisa’s comments. On the stage, a man was finishing his off-key rendition of a Journey song.
“Wow,” said Lisa, genuinely flabbergasted.
“Dude, you need to kick him out ASAP,” Amy said to me.
“You think so?” I asked.
“Hannah, this is dangerous,” said Amy. “You don’t know this guy.”
“Well… I know him a little.”
“So, you’re just going to let him stay with you—a guy who got kicked out of his own apartment? Do you even know if he’s telling the truth when he says it was his roommate that got in trouble? How do you know it was even about a party? And do you think he’s honestly looking for a new place to live?”
“Actually no, I don’t,” I admitted. “He seems more focused on the bet than finding a new place to live. He’s incredibly convinced that I’m going to give in.”
“So instead of just kicking him out now, you’re going to keep him around for a month, not sleep with him, and then kick him out?” Amy asked.
“…I hadn’t thought of it in those words,” I said.
“This guy could be, like, a rapist or something,” said Amy. “How do you know he won’t make you have sex with him once you’ve denied him enough times?”
I laughed, spilling a little bit of my drink on my pants. “He’s not going to do that,” I said.
“But how do you know?” Amy asked with real concern.
I shrugged. “I just know. I don’t know much about his past, but I know a little about him as a person. He’s actually a really nice guy! He’s cocky as fuck, though.”
“Don’t be such a downer, Amy,” Lisa yelled. “Hannah needs to live a little! She just got out of a bad relationship, and she needs to get some dick.”
“Lisa!” I said, embarrassed.
“But I know what you need to do!” said Lisa. “You sleep with him… but you don’t sleep with him until the day after the month time-limit. That way, you still get to have sex, but you get his ego
in check! You’re showing him who really has control in your arrangement!”
I didn’t want to admit it, but I did love that idea. “You think so?”
“Definitely,” said Lisa. “Allow yourself to really feel good…”
“You know what? That’s a great idea, Lisa,” I said. “You’re right. I’m going to not fuck this guy so hard, it’ll drive him crazy!”
I spilled my drink again.
“Jesus, Stone!” said Amy. “Stop squirting me. I don’t like you like that!”
I laughed, and we all briefly looked back to the stage where an embarrassed older woman was nervously butchering a Fleetwood Mac track.
“You know…” I began. I heard how drunk I sounded, but I pushed through. “Why is it that every man thinks they can just—that they can just seduce any woman? Are guys that, like, dumb? Do you know what I mean?”
“Are you talking about Jared?” Lisa asked me.
“What?” I blurted out. “No! No, this isn’t about Jared! Come on; the new guy has the best fucking body I’ve ever seen! I seriously can’t believe that this guy is really that into me.”
“He’s probably not into you,” said Amy. “He’s horny, and you let him crash at your place. It’s like free sex.”
“Free sex is what she needs right now. Don’t discourage her!” Lisa yelled.
The Bauman’s employee running karaoke surveyed the crowd, looking at our table.
“Hannah! Come on down!”
I had completely forgotten that I had signed up to do a song. I couldn’t even remember which song I had picked, but as I went up onto the stage, I felt an immense rush. I looked to our table, and at the many drunk, judgmental eyes in the crowd, and realized that I didn’t even care what the people in front of me thought of my singing. I was doing it for me.
Chapter Eight
Sawyer
I woke up to a weird sound outside the front door. I had passed out on the couch, waiting for Hannah to return from her Friday night shenanigans. I looked at the time: 1:28. I sat up, in nothing but a pair of boxers that did wonders for displaying my body. I began to hear more noises from outside the door.
Keys were being fumbled. The doorknob was twisting, but never quite opening. It suddenly had occurred to me that Hannah might have been coming back from a night out drinking. I prepared myself.
After listening to her fail to open the door enough times, I eventually opened the door myself. Hannah was standing there, slouched over and incredibly drunk. She looked up at me, giggled, and smiled.
“Hey there, handsome,” she said with a slurred voice. She stumbled in, occasionally giggling whenever she took an awkward step.
“Good evening, Ms. Stone,” I said to her. “Or, actually, good morning.”
She did something I hadn’t expected and playfully smacked my abs.
“What are you doing up so late, mister?”
She fell back onto the couch, dropping her purse nearby.
“I was waiting for you.” I said to her.
“To do what? Parade around in our underwear together?” she asked me.
I shrugged. “If you wanted.”
Every time I moved my body, I was doing my best to show off every aspect of my physique. I barely even had to flex; luckily, my body looked good in almost any pose.
“Seriously, Sawyer, is this really how you get girls?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, have you not figured out yet that this—” she waved her arms frantically in my general direction, “this isn’t working for me. You’re hot! I get it! And I agree, you’re gorgeous, okay?”
“Then, what are you waiting for?” I asked her as I joined her on the couch. I noticed her eyes darting to my boxers.
She licked her lips. “I’m not ‘waiting.’ I…”
She began to trace her finger along my arrow tattoo. Even the light brushing from her finger was enough to excite me and make my cock grow steadily. I think she may have even noticed me getting aroused because she suddenly stopped.
“I… think you’re better than that.”
I grimaced. “Well… from my perspective, I don’t get the resistance.”
“Ooh, the resistance,” she said mockingly. “Sounds serious!”
“Yeah, I’m great in bed, we’re both good-looking people, we’re both clearly into each other… and we’re both clearly turned on right now.”
She bit her lip. “You don’t know that.”
“I’ll bet if I were to rub my hand in between your legs, I would find out just how turned on you really are,” I said.
She laughed, but it wasn’t the icy laugh from before. She sounded amused.
“Well, keep dreaming, pal,” she said. “Because I am not sleeping with you before the deadline.”
“That implies you’ll sleep with me after the deadline…”
“I didn’t imply anything; you inferred it, mister.”
“I just don’t see who wins here,” I said.
“Well, if I sleep with you, I am also apparently signing away my guest bedroom to you,” she reminded me.
“You don’t have to sign away the guest bedroom; just let me sleep in yours,” I said to her, grinning.
She laughed again and clumsily got to her feet.
“Men like you cannot just keep getting what you want. I am striking a blow for all women out there like me!”
“What are women like you?” I asked her.
“I am among the mistreated,” she said. “I give away my feelings to guys who apparently can’t wait to go behind my back and fuck some other woman! I’m…”
She stumbled over closer to me, nearly falling over.
“I’m almost thinking you have no personality,” she muttered. “That’s why you’re always determined to be naked around me, that’s why it’s always about sex… because that’s all you have to offer.”
As she lumbered back toward her bedroom, I stood up off the couch.
“What do you want to know about me?” I asked her.
She stopped and turned around. “What?”
“You think I don’t have a personality?” I asked rhetorically. “I bet I’ve got more personality than the last two guys you dated. Come on; try me.”
“I didn’t say that you had no life. Although I don’t know much about that, either,” she clarified. “I said you have to show off your body to me because you’re either unable or incapable of showing your mind. All I know is that you’re apparently horny every hour of every day.”
“It’s called being a guy,” I said.
“Regardless,” she said, “I am not falling for any of your schemes. You know, I actually wondered a few times if you were going to impress me, show me that you actually know how to seduce a woman. I’m a fucking woman, Sawyer. I’m not one of those girls you can just invite over with a smile and a line.”
I was impressed with her candor. I was slightly unsure of how to respond because, until that night, no woman had ever spoken to me like that, with such conviction and power. I loved it.
“I’m always honest and above-board when it comes to women,” I said.
“Really?” she asked with sarcasm in her voice. “I don’t think I’ve ever known one guy who’s been honest. Every time, it’s always something! And I always have to find out the hard way! Fuck…”
“Listen—” I began.
“Just one question,” she interjected. “Have you ever been in a serious relationship?”
“Sure,” I answered honestly.
“Oh. Okay, follow-up: have you ever been in love?”
“I don’t think so,” I said. “But plenty of people have never been in love; it happens.”
“Does it?” she asked.
We both grew quiet. I suspected that we were both seriously contemplating that question and wondering about love. She eventually snapped out of it and met my eyes. We stared at each other for a few seconds, but with the tension, it felt like many minutes.
“So, hypoth
etically,” she began, “If we were to have sex right now… what would happen afterward?”
“It’s up to you. I’ve shown that I’m willing to make new agreements,” I said.
“You said I’d have to let you live here.”
“Well, that was because I know if we had sex, you would want me to live here.”
“Is that so?” she asked, chuckling.
“Absolutely. I mean, think about it: it’s pretty easy to talk to me, right? We’re having a pretty flowing conversation right now, I’d say. I’ve also been a pretty good roommate so far, haven’t I? I haven’t bothered you.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” she said.
“I would. I never fucking see you,” I told her. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
“Okay, okay, okay,” she said in her stupor. “First of all, you could have knocked on my door during any one of those times I had my door shut.”
“That’s not—”
“Secondly, when I get home from work, I’m tired. I like to relax. Relaxing for you might be having sex with your neighbors, but for me, it depends. Sometimes I like TV; sometimes I like to read; sometimes I just want to lie in bed and watch videos on my phone. If you think I’m avoiding you, you should talk to me about it!”
“…I am. We’re talking about it now. So, anytime I’m in the living room, you’re not going to come out and hang with me?”
“I will if you put on a fucking shirt!”
“Don’t say things you don’t mean,” I said playfully, throwing in a wink.
“Oh my God,” she bellowed.
“I’m just kidding! Learn to take a joke, baby.”
“Don’t tell me what to learn how to take.”
We both laughed at the innuendo, but I was determined to use the new kind of opportunity that had presented itself in a way that was mostly new to me.
“Tell you what,” I said, “If you surrender and make me the winner of the bet, I don’t have to stick around. I’ll leave. I mean, since it’s your place. If you’re really not comfortable with me living here, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”
“Wow, so the muscle-man does have feelings!”
“Yeah, he does, and frankly, he’s insulted that you keep saying shit like that,” I said to her. “I may love sex and be willing to bring it up when others aren’t, but that doesn’t mean I’m a bad guy. I make my intentions clear; I’m a guy with nothing to hide.”