Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 89265 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89265 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
“Oh, honey, no. That was one guy. One fucking jerk who probably has a small dick and doesn’t know the first thing about how to please a woman. Was he your first?” she asked, turning onto my street.
I sighed. “Yeah. He was a year older than me, but I was tutoring him in chemistry. He was on the football team and needed to keep his grades up. I was totally, hopelessly in love with him.”
“How long were you dating?”
“Not sure you could call it dating. Mostly we just had sex in his bedroom while we were supposed to be studying. Then he dumped me at the end of the semester and told all his friends I was a terrible fuck. It got back to me.”
She pulled into my driveway and put her car in park. “How did you feel about the sex? Did you enjoy it?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I was just so nervous every time. He was the first guy I’d ever been completely naked with, and I would think about all the hot girls he’d probably been with before me. I wanted to please him, but I worried I didn’t compare.”
Emme groaned. “I hate that feeling.”
“I didn’t have sex for a long time after that. And even then, it was tough to enjoy.” I paused. “Even now.”
“Is it?” she asked gently, glancing at me.
“Yes,” I admitted. “I have trouble relaxing. I’m too worried about what he’s thinking, that I’m not living up to his expectations.”
“Guys don’t think during sex, Stella. They’re too busy feeling like a fucking superhero.”
“Maybe with you.”
“But it was only the one guy who said that, right?”
“Right. But other guys have told me I seem unresponsive in bed. Like I’m not having fun.”
“It probably comes off that way because you’re nervous, and I don’t blame you. You just have to find the right guy! One who will be patient and understanding, one who knows his way around a woman’s body and gets off on pleasing you.”
I sniffed. “I’m not sure I’ll ever find that guy.”
“You also need to date guys you actually want to bang, Stella. I understand now why you pick such safe types, but maybe if you were super hot in the pants for somebody, you’d have an easier time enjoying sex.”
“Maybe.” But I wasn’t convinced that was the answer. “Or maybe I’m just bad in bed.”
“I refuse to believe that.” She sighed. “Haven’t you ever wanted to just rip someone’s clothes off and go at it?”
I thought for a moment. There was this guy at my oil change place that I sometimes worked into my LELO fantasies, but—
“You’re taking too long to answer this question.”
“Sorry.” I shrugged. “I just don’t get those feelings too often. It’s like I’ve trained myself to shut them down.”
She pointed a finger at me. “You know what you should do? Have a fuck fling.”
“A fuck fling?” I wrinkled my nose. “That does not sound like me at all.”
“Because it isn’t. You’re all about the long-term plan, the long-distance run, the big picture. But a meaningless, short-term fuck fling with someone who can teach you to enjoy sex without feeling so self-conscious is exactly what you need. Pleasure for pleasure’s sake.”
“I don’t think that’s the—”
“Oh! Oh!” She snapped her fingers. “You know what would be even better? If he didn’t even speak English! That way you won’t even know what he’s saying!”
I groaned and opened the car door.
“I’m serious,” she said, poking my leg. “Go inside and book a trip somewhere. Italy. France. Brazil. Buy some sexy clothes, pack a bag, and get out of town.”
“I’ll think about it.” I took off my second shoe and tucked it into my bag. “Thanks for driving me home. I had too much wine.”
“That’s what sisters are for. We’ll go get your car tomorrow. Listen, I love you and I’ve been there. Things are going to get better.”
A sound escaped me, something between a sob and a laugh. “Right.”
“They will,” she insisted. “Walter wasn’t the one, Stella. But the one is out there. You’ll find him.”
As I trudged up my driveway in bare feet and let myself in the side door, I couldn’t help thinking how easy it was for Emme to be so optimistic. She’d found her soul mate living right across the hall from her apartment—they’d already been friends. He’d discovered he was father to an adorable eight-week-old baby girl named Paisley right when they started dating, so Emme already had a kind of built-in family. And Maren had reunited with her first love over the summer. Now both my younger sisters were happily engaged, planning weddings and babies, and I couldn’t help feeling left out. Left behind. Left alone.
I made myself a kale salad and added leftover grilled chicken in my fridge from last night’s dinner for one, and I ate it standing at the counter in silence, feeling shitty about myself.