“What are you doing right now?” Bella asked.
“I’m about to jump into a cab, head back to the hotel,” I said. “Grab a shower. Get myself ready.”
“Ready for what?”
Butterflies erupted in my stomach. Oh shit…
I opened my mouth for a second. Almost actually told her. If anyone would understand, it would be Bella. Hell, if anyone would approve, it would be her too.
“I— I’m not sure yet,” I stammered. “Gonna go out, though.”
“You’d better,” she warned.
“I’ll probably head down to the hotel bar,” I said truthfully. “See what’s going on.”
“Make something happen,” Bella commanded sternly. “Let loose… but be safe.”
“Yeah, yeah…”
“Remember,” my friend said. “We’re all living vicariously through you, now.”
“Got it.”
“Make good decisions. Don’t do anything I’d do.”
I laughed. “Fuck that. I’ll do whatever I want.”
“There’s my girl,” Bella beamed. She sighed again, this time more wistfully. “Alright, let me get back to the stupid grind.”
“To the fucklets?”
“Yeah. Them too.”
“I’ll make you proud,” I told her, the knot of anticipation growing bigger with every bold statement.
“You’d better, bitch. Because I’m going to need a full report.”
“Roger that,” I smiled. “Lauren out.”
I hit the red button, and the time popped up. Three hours, maybe a little more. That’s all I had.
Three more hours to cancel. To change my mind. To bury these ridiculous thoughts of doing the craziest thing I’d ever done, in the wildest city on Earth.
Or I could simply relax and enjoy it.
College-age best friends…
Holy shit, that part had me crossing my legs. These guys were in their early twenties. Maybe even nineteen! I was a full ten years older than them. An entire decade, their senior…
Young guys like that, don’t they?
Some did, I definitely knew. When Victoria got divorced she dated a few younger guys, some of them more than five years her junior. She called them ‘overly enthusiastic’. And apparently she’d enjoyed every second of that enthusiasm, almost as much as we’d loved hearing stories about it.
Besides, thirty wasn’t that old. It was practically twenty-nine. Practically mid-to-late twenties, when you really thought about it.
Married at 19… I thought to myself glumly. You were such an idiot.
Yes, yes I was. I’d wasted ten years with Rob. More, if you counted the year we dated right out of high school. I’d only been with three other guys. That’s it. Four whole lovers in my entire life…