Sex Says

by Max Monroe

  San Francisco. I loved this city.

  It had an undercurrent of cultural electricity that most cities lacked, and it was that spark that drew me in and kept me coming back for more.

  I leaned a little deeper into the kitchen counter to listen to what Lola and her sister, Annie, were saying by the door as the kids bounced off the walls of the hallway. I was ninety-percent convinced I’d been relegated to the kitchen just so that Lola could prove a point—kitchen meetings didn’t exist. I smiled at the thought.

  “He’s still here.”

  “Thanks, Captain Obvious,” Lola said through gritted teeth. She was trying to keep her volume down, but thanks to the undertone of anger at Annie for having brought me up, she was struggling.

  I’m going to have to introduce her to Cameron.

  “I’m just saying. The last time I was here, it was night, and now it’s morning and the man you supposedly hate is still standing in your kitchen. There had to be some time in between there where sleeping was involved, and since my kids were in your bed, I’m just wondering where you and said man were.”

  “We fell asleep on the couch.”

  “After having loud, rambunctious sex?”

  “What? No! Sitting up, Annie. We fell asleep sitting up with Minions in the background.”

  “Well, hey, how was I supposed to know? My kids are deep sleepers. At least, I hope they are. Otherwise Brian and I are going to be spending a lot of money on therapy, and frankly, we haven’t been setting it aside.”

  I bit my lip and looked to the counter to keep from laughing out loud.

  I also took that as my cue it was time to formally enter the conversation.

  Padding my way around the island, I held out my hand as I got close and gave Lola’s sister a smile. Soft blond hair swept up in a ponytail and happy color in her cheeks, she seemed like a mixture of Lola and my sister—war-worn and practical, but still fun. Ironically, the familiarity made me feel warm and comfortable and completely at ease.

  “Hey, Annie.”

  “Hi, Reed.”

  I smiled at her use of my name—the way she used it like I was a sexy secret.

  “Have a good time last night?”

  “Three good times.”

  Lola choked and coughed from shock, and my smile deepened.

  “Anytime you need to get out and Lola is busy, feel free to ask me. Your kids are a blast. I’m expecting a nephew here in the next couple of months, and my sister already has plans to use me shamelessly.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “No, he’s definitely not—” Lola started, but I cut her off with a simple, “Yes.”

  Annie smiled wide. “Oh, my God. Brian might actually keep some hair beyond thirty-five.”

  I grinned at her candor and humor in one, one of my absolute favorite combinations in a person, and shrugged. “I’m always happy to save a hair.”

  “Lola, I love him.”

  Lola turned a scowl in my direction, irritation bleeding more gold into the amber green of her eyes, and I laughed. “See? She loves me. Your sister is wise.”

  “Don’t make me cut you.”

  “Mom, Lucy hit me!” Henry yelled from the hall, and Annie started as though she’d completely forgotten they were out there.

  “Shit. I gotta go.”

  Lola leaned in to give her a hug. “Let’s have coffee soon.”

  “With those hellions?” Annie asked, appalled.

  “No. Leave the hellions with Brian.”

  Annie’s face cleared, and the good kind of wrinkles formed at the corners of her eyes. “Oh, okay. That sounds fun.”

  “It does,” I interjected, and Annie smiled deeper as Lola’s face did the opposite.

  “You weren’t invited,” Unhappy Lola informed me, but I ignored her.

  “I’ll bring my sister, Laura. You guys seem like you would hit it off.”

  “Oh my God, that sounds amazing.” Annie clapped her hands in front of her chest. “I could use another mom friend. I tried going to one of those mom groups, and they all snubbed me because my diapers weren’t organic.”

  “Your kids haven’t been in diapers in years,” Lola grumbled.

  Annie and I both ignored her.

  “Great, I’ll ask her about a date, and Lola can let you know.”

  “Yay! Oh my God, I’m so glad I met you.”

  “Annie,” Lola muttered through clenched teeth.

  “What? I’m pretty sure the president would send his approval. I mean, I’ll have to check with Brian to confirm…”

  “Okay,” Lola snapped. “Time for you to go.”

  “Bye, Annie,” I called, waving my fingers in a delicate roll as Lola shoved her out the door with a hip.

  The sound of the door slamming rang out through the apartment and served as some sort of pseudofinal bell. Because that was the last time I saw Lola move, her head to the door and her hands splayed at its side.

  “Lola?” I called and she groaned.

  “Loooollllaaaa,” I sang, and her groan turned into a grumble.

  “Come on, LoLo,” I prodded, and finally, she turned to face me, the back of her head banging against the door what sounded like painfully. I winced when she did.

  “You should stop beating yourself up,” I teased.

  Her eyebrows pinched together, and her foot came up to shove the rest of her off the door. “I’m beating myself so that I don’t beat you.”

  “Seems counterproductive,” I mused innocently.

  “What are you thinking, making a date with my sister and your sister and getting all buddy-buddy and shit?”

  I shrugged and closed the distance between us, backing her all the way back into the door when she retreated. “Moving forward. Getting to know more than your bra size and your favorite cookie. Getting to know the women around you and letting you know the women around me and hoping that the two of them come together half as well as the two of us came together the other night.”

  “Reed—”

  “It was us, Lo,” I told her, taking advantage of the empty apartment while it lasted. This was important, and I wasn’t willing to let it get swallowed up by interruptions. “It wasn’t sexual prowess or experience that made the two of us so good together. It was us, and everything we’re turning out to be.”

  She shook her head, her eyes hedging toward panic with their recognition of the subject.

  “That wasn’t—”

  “It was. It was everything you’re fighting so hard to say it wasn’t, and I know it because it’s always been missing for me before. You and I were different. Special. The filling for the hole I always suspected was there but never knew how to plug. And now, I’m going to have to remind you.”

  Her mouth opened in rebuttal, but thanks to fast hands and an even faster advance, she never got the chance.

  My lips met hers, and my hands met her hips just as they bucked off the door.

  Slowly, her hands trailed down my arms until they settled on the backs of mine, and her tongue pushed my own back into my mouth.

  Gentle licks and careful turns acting together, she worked to explore me in all the places I would never forget about her—the texture of her tongue, the taste of her lips, and the tender nip of her teeth.

  When she sighed into my mouth and settled into my body, I breathed her in one last time and backed away.

  “It’s us. Not technique. Us.”

  Her face glowed, and her words were rough with desire. “You can shut up now.”

  “Okay.”

  She smiled, her fingers laced with mine. Her eyes were shiny with something I’d been shoving down her throat long before my tongue—perspective.

  I glanced down at the watch on my wrist and startled. I wavered hugely about following through with the thing I had planned versus scrapping it and doing a little more of what Lola said she’d be up for with the language of her body. But Lola didn’t need any help lusting after me physically; she needed help understanding all of the l
ittle, stupid things that made me the way I was. Original plan it is.

  “Oh shit, I almost forgot. Do you have your phone?”

  “Yeah, why?” she asked, reaching into her back pocket to pull it out.

  “Of course you do,” I mumbled and she scowled.

  I put up both hands in a defensive gesture. “I’m just saying pretty much everyone has their phone on their person at all times. So it’s not a surprise that you do.”

  “Reed!”

  “Fine, fine. Can I borrow it?”

  “Where is your phone?”

  “Hell if I know. I only keep track of it when I might need to use it to make contact with you.” I only bought it yesterday, for the sole reason of keeping in contact with you, were the words I didn’t say.

  Swayed by my strategic sweetness, she handed hers over with a pensive look.

  I dialed a fairly random San Francisco number and waited.

  I knew the area code, and I knew other numbers and their trademarks by district—and I’d done this a time or two—or seventy—before.

  “Primly and Price,” the efficient woman answered swiftly on the other end.

  “Oh yeah, hi, this is Mike Spence. I’m trying to reach the head of Human Resources.”

  “May I ask why you’re calling?”

  “I’m supposed to start work today, but I’ve got a little situation.”

  “What are you doing?” Lola mouthed. “Who the hell is Mike Spence?”

  I waved her off so I could concentrate and hit the button to put the phone on speaker.

  “Hold please while I transfer you.”

  “Thanks,” I waxed. “I really appreciate it.”

  “What are you doing?” Lola angry-mouthed again.

  “Just listen,” I mouthed back.

  “Hello? Mike?”

  “Yes, this is he. Who am I speaking with?”

  “This is Lucinda Thomas, head of HR here at Primly and Price.”

  I smiled. Oh man, this was going to be a good one. “Hi, Lucinda. How are you today?”

  Lola shook her head and held up both hands. I smiled even deeper and waved her off.

  “Well, I was doing fine, Mike. Reception said you’re supposed to start work today but can’t make it?”

  “That’s right,” I confirmed.

  “May I ask what’s come up?”

  “Well, I got tickets to a concert, and I really can’t miss it. It’s my favorite musician. I’ve been waiting my entire life to see him.”

  Lola held her head in distress, clearly confused beyond the point of comfort.

  “Mike.”

  “Yes, Lucinda?” I asked sweetly, innocently—dumbly.

  “That is an absolutely terrible excuse. Think about the impression you’re going to be leaving on the company. It reeks of immaturity, and you’re leaving a lot of people in a bind. And I’m afraid if you don’t show up for your first day, I won’t be able to have confidence in your attendance from here out.”

  “Geez. That doesn’t sound good, Luce.”

  “That’s because it isn’t, Mike. It isn’t.” Lucinda sounded like she heard too much of this shit. She needed to clean up her employee roster if that was the case.

  “Well…”

  “Mike, I’m going to have to let you go if you don’t show up today. I can’t make it any clearer than that, and I hope you understand and do the responsible thing.”

  “I don’t know…” I pretended to hem.

  “Listen, Mike. I’m a busy person, and this is a busy business. Let’s just decide to part ways now and save both of us some time.”

  “If that’s what you really think is best…”

  “I do.”

  “All right, Lucinda. I hope you have a good—”

  The line went dead before I even finished my sentence.

  “What the hell was that?” Lola yelled immediately, practically shaking the walls of the apartment and doing a little jump and a twist. I laughed.

  “Just a little thing I like to do.”

  “You just got Mike fired!” she accused, shoving me in the shoulder—pretty hard for someone her size too.

  I laughed again. “There is no Mike.”

  She stopped mid-rally. “What?”

  “I made him up,” I explained, laying her phone down on the kitchen island and giving it a spin. “Dialed a random number. Lucinda never even checked her personnel file to see if there was a Mike scheduled to start today. Hell, it’s Sunday. She’s probably watching her kids systematically tear apart her house piece by piece, subconsciously knowing that it’s not likely someone is supposed to start on a Sunday of all days, but I talked and she listened as though I spoke the truth. That’s not my fault. I was just having a little fun. And no harm to the company since there never was supposed to be anyone starting.”

  “Oh, my God. You’re such a troublemaker.”

  I shrugged.

  Her teeth carved at her bottom lip ruthlessly as she wrung her hands, and then finally, released the words clawing to get out of her throat. “I don’t really understand it, but I kind of want to be one too.”

  Both ends up my lips curled up, and I picked up the phone and held it out. I’d never realized how much of a lonely man’s game this had been before.

  But the feeling Lola’s enjoyment gave me—ten times as strong as what I got on my own—sure as hell woke me up.

  “Show me how it’s done, Lo. Show me how it’s done.”

  With one final swerve and beep of the horn, the cab came to a stop outside of Marlowe’s, and I internally cursed when my eyes met the glow of 8:02 p.m. on the dashboard.

  Shit. Without any excuses of last-minute work meetings or family emergencies in my arsenal, I was officially real fucking late for dinner with Abby and Jen.

  “That’ll be $20.15,” the cabbie said as he slid the shifter into Park.

  “What?” I questioned with squinty eyes and an opened mouth. “That cab ride was over twenty dollars? This restaurant is, like, four blocks away from my apartment.”

  He shrugged. “Sorry, sweetheart, but cab fares have gone up since Uber took over.”

  “Jesus,” I muttered and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill and three singles. “Uh…thanks, I guess.” I tossed the money into the front seat and hopped out of the cab in a hurry.

  Our dinner reservation was for 7:30 p.m., and it was a staggering thirty-two—now thirty-three—minutes after that. Well past the time frame that would be considered excusable to Abby and Jen. They were both punctual to the point of anal retentive and expected everyone within their atmosphere to be the same—especially Abby. If her date wasn’t five minutes early, he might as well just start the night with, “Hey, sorry I’m late. Obviously, I’m an asshole.” Over twenty minutes late? He might as well just not show up.

  So, unless I had actually managed to set my hair on fire while blow-drying, there weren’t many excuses that would win me a warm greeting tonight.

  I could say that writing had made me lose track of time, but that particular apology had bags under its eyes it was so tired. Plus, it was a lie.

  Rather, I’d spent my day people watching with Reed at Golden Gate Park, making it a game to provide the inner monologue of each passerby. I almost hated that he had such a knack for fictional narration.

  When a thirty-something guy—decked out in a neon yellow tracksuit—had run by us while shouting into his Bluetooth, Reed had narrated, “Listen, Mary, I told you I can only wear Lycra and spandex from now on… No… I can’t wear skinny jeans anymore… Goddammit, Mary! I told you I’m a neo-hipster now! … No, it’s not the same fucking thing! It’s different… Well, basically it’s where you’re a hipster, but since hipsterism has gone so mainstream, you dress and act like a regular person.”

  And when a middle-aged woman in yoga pants had strolled past our bench with a white fluffy dog wearing a sweater knitted from hemp, Reed had brilliantly fictionalized, “It’s been a really rough week. Fido is only seven days into the ve
gan challenge, and he’s having a hard time with it… Oh, God, no, I’m not too fussy with his new diet. He can still eat anything that’s gluten-free, sugar-free, dairy-free, unprocessed, fair-trade, and organic.”

  I hadn’t been able to keep a straight face through the entire game. By the time he’d started monologue-ing Fido’s thoughts on his new diet, I’d laughed loud enough to gain the attention of everyone in our vicinity, including the pigeons.

  It’d been over a week since we did the horizontal tango, and I’d yet to grow tired of Reed Luca and his games—and he had a lot of them. Lying to each and every acquaintance and getting them to play along, in an attempt to look like they weren’t completely in the dark. Calling random places pretending to be employed or previously employed and disgruntled. Shopping for combinations of items that often lacked explanation and acting as though it was completely normal—even asking for pigeon milk and farm-raised sugar when we’d stopped for coffee on the way over there.

  I almost liked his games as much as I liked him.

  And I liked him.

  Somewhere along the way, hate had morphed into dislike and then reincarnated itself into lust, and then, like had blossomed. I liked Reed. Probably too much. But I couldn’t help it. That intriguing bastard was too much fun. Infuriating bullshit columns aside, I couldn’t not like him.

  You don’t just like him, my mind whispered, but I refused to take a long enough pause to understand what the hell that meant. Maybe it was avoidance. Maybe it was denial. Maybe I was just compartmentalizing. But no matter the reason, I knew I wanted more of Reed—more time, more words, more touches, more kisses, more, more, more.

  I had no idea what we were or where we were headed, but it didn’t matter.

  I’d never been the type of girl who needed labels. I preferred to live in the moment and let things evolve naturally. I didn’t want a man who was loyal to me out of misplaced obligation. And I definitely didn’t want the pretenses and the insecurities that so often came with those misplaced obligations. I wanted a partner who freely, willingly, and openly chose me, and I didn’t need, or necessarily want, promises or labels or marriage to achieve that.

  Was Reed Luca my version of a perfect partner?

  I didn’t have a fucking clue. But, like I said before, I refused to take a long enough pause to understand it all. I just wanted to let it all fall into place organically, without wasting time questioning every little thing.