First . . .
They didn’t have condoms. Which wasn’t really a problem. They’d had a talk about this earlier. Neither of them had any STDs, and she was on the pill. The real issues were . . .
They’d let this go on too long, built it up too much, put too much pressure on themselves.
She said she had to pee, locked herself in the bathroom, and breathed the long, deep inhalations and slow exhalations of an opera singer with magnificent breath control . . . except when she was singing.
He knocked on the door. “I’m coming in.”
“No! I’m throwing up.”
“You are not,” he said from the other side.
“I think I have a stomach virus.”
“I think you have a chickenshit virus.”
“That, too.”
“I’ll wait.”
She turned on the faucet and washed her hands. She was used to seeing herself in wigs and tiaras. She was not used to seeing herself in a Stars ball cap, but she liked the way it looked on her head. Sporty. Carefree. Everything she wasn’t. “Can I have this hat?”
“No.” From the next room.
“You must have dozens of them. And you won’t let me have one?”
“I’m not feeling generous right now.”
“I understand.”
She reluctantly took off her fleece jacket and slipped out of her sneakers, but kept the cap on. “I’m getting undressed.”
“You do that.” He didn’t sound happy about it.
She pictured the beautiful underwear tucked away in her suitcase and the plain pair of sporty briefs she’d pulled on instead, along with an ugly, flesh-colored sports bra. What had she been thinking? That she’d pop into a gym for a quick pickup game?
Since she’d barely had three hours of sleep last night, she was lucky to be wearing underwear at all.
“Confess,” he said from the other side of the door. “You’re a virgin, right? That’s your deep, dark secret and why you’re running scared.”
“I’m not a virgin, and I’m not running scared. I’m just not good at transitions, and you know this is going to ruin everything. Next to Rachel, you’re sort of my best friend.”
“Exactly what a sex-starved man does not want to hear.”
“You’re right. I’m being stupid.” She slipped off her Cavatina3 and set it on the bathroom counter, followed by her poison ring, her Egyptian cuff, and, finally, her Stars ball cap.
She shook her hair out of its ponytail and took another deep breath. She was going to do this. She was going to forget that she’d fallen in love with him and simply enjoy it. This was about her body, not about her heart. She turned the knob.
He was sitting on the floor outside the door, his back against the wall, looking bored. “Sorry to tell you this,” he said, “but I’ve lost interest.”
“Regrettable.” She sat cross-legged on the floor next to him.
He bent one knee and propped his elbow on top. “Here are all the reasons you and I can never have a serious long-term relationship.”
“Keep talking dirty to me.”
“You’re completely dedicated to your career.”