Page 9 of Desperate Haste

“Why do you ask?” I turn my head to look at her now that she’s next to me.

“Because he asked about you on Wednesday.” Her lips turn up just slightly and she looks at me coyly out of the corner of her eye. A beat too late, our server comes back with our food.

You couldn’t have come, like, sixty seconds sooner?

“He did? Why?” My voice nearly cracks as the words come out because I’m genuinely surprised that he had asked about me. What we had—did—was nothing. A one night stand and nothing more. Why the fuck was he asking about me?

“He asked if you were seeing anyone,” she replies. She takes a bite out of her sandwich and with her cheeks stuffed with food, raises an eyebrow at me.Well, since she brought it up.

“We slept together the night of your wedding.” This causes her to start choking on her food and I slap her on the back a few times, praying I don’t have to perform the Heimlich maneuver.

“Youwhat?” she exclaims. “I thought we talked about this. Remember?” She’s coughing and reaching for her glass as she reminds me of the talk we had as I helped her into her wedding dress. I’d asked her before the ceremony started if she thought it would be bad if I hooked up with a groomsmen. She told me he was a player and I should steer clear. But as the night went on, the hotter he got and when he asked me if I wanted to go back to his place, I couldn’t say no.

“Oh, honey, stop. It was just a one time thing.” I wave a hand at her and scoff. “We used protection, I left when we were done, and that’s it.”

“I mean”—she looks at me apprehensively, her tone shifting—“it doesn’thaveto be it. While heisa man whore, he’s still a good guy. He’s been nothing but nice to me since I’ve gotten together with Hank.”

I laugh into my drink at what she’s suggesting. “Me? Date someone? Absolutely not. I’m a one and done kinda girl. You know it’s a rule I have.”

“Maybe you could change the rule. You made them up in the first place, you could change them. Dating isn’t that bad, maybe you could give it a chance.”

“I don’t do that, B. You know I don’t.” While I know her heart is in the right place, I’m not interested in the prospects one bit.

“But maybe you could. He’s really a good guy, Ophie. He might be good for you.” Her words are becoming hurried and I can tell she is getting excited by the idea. “It might be nice to have someone consistent again. I know after what happened to you before made things hard but maybe you could?—”

“Bailey, no,” I say sternly, cutting her off at the mention of my past. “I like my life as it is now and I’m not changing it. What happened in the past isin the pastand I’m not going back there. I live here, in the present, and I would appreciate it if you let me do that.” I take a breath and look at my friend who stares back at me with round eyes. The deep sapphire blue of her irises reflect the late summer sun.

She purses her lips together into a tight light before finally sighing. “Okay, if you’re sure. But just in case.” She pulls out her phone, types a few things, and then sets it down on the table. Less than a second later, my phone buzzes in my purse and I pull it out to find a new message from her. It’s a contact card. “There’s his number.” She beams at me.

I roll my eyes and shake my head at her. “It’s not happening, B. Now stop with this nonsense and tell me all the dirty, nasty details of your honeymoon sex. And you better not leave anything out.”

7

MALCOLM

I’m sitting on my couch reading about the rise and fall of the Roman Empire when my phone buzzes on the coffee table. This is the third book this week that I’ve read about Rome, but not the first three in my lifetime. My reading preferences range from Ancient Rome and the inner mechanical workings of anything to autobiographies and short stories. And the newspaper. I read the paper every day and am probably one of the last remaining people who still have it delivered to their front door.

Growing up, my friends used to look at me like I was crazy for reading them the headlines at lunch or choosing some dry looking textbook over a graphic novel. But I’ve always had a fascination with the world and the history of it. Pair that with an eidetic memory and I could tell you almost any fact from any book I’ve read in my twenty-nine years.

Reaching for my phone, I swipe my thumb across the screen to read the message.

Lily (Thursday, the bar)

Hey Malcolm. Have any plans for the weekend?

Seeing as how it’s Saturday, I’m going to assume she means do I have any planstonight. My labeling system for the contacts in my phone helps me remember that this is the Lily I took home with me from Butcher and Block.

I’m working tonight - closing.

Her text comes in at the perfect time because I’m going to have to leave soon if I don’t want to sit in traffic. Standing from the couch, I pull off my glasses and set them on the coffee table along with my book as a new message from Lily comes in.

Lily (Thursday, the bar)

Would you wanna get together when you’re off? We had fun a couple weeks ago, I’d love to see you again.

Without meaning to, my brain goes to the image of Ophelia’s pale yellow dress pushed up above her waist. The softness of her skin, and the noises she made as I pushed inside of her. Her coy smile as she looked at me from the doorway ready to leave and how I wanted to lick it. I smash my eyes shut and shake my head, trying to loosen the memories of her that seemed to be hanging onto the insides of my brain.

I’ll text you.

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