Page 7 of The Playboy SEAL
I envision her full lips pulling to one corner as she smiles, and it causes a pain of homesickness. “The studio is my boyfriend. Want to drive down for my class the week after next? I’ll save you a spot.”
She lives about thirty minutes away from me, and we see each other as frequently as possible. My mom has always been supportive in anything I wanted to do—within reason. The studio is a venture she agreed with almost immediately, and I haven’t looked back. It provides me with a beautiful, full life.
“I really do have to go now, though. I don’t want to annoy the grocery patrons. People seem to frown upon the pitch of my voice.” It’s a trait I’ve gotten used to. I wish the world would, too.
“Nonsense, honey. Your voice is lovely.”
I scoff. “You’re biased. Plus, it’s about two octaves away from being identical to yours. Your compliment is moot.”
“A mother’s compliment is never moot. We always tell the truth.”
I agree with that. She confirms she will come to my Saturday morning class next week and tells me to buy a certain brand of chocolate. I have to stay on the phone with her for a few more minutes while I catalog all of thechocolate options in front of me.
“Bye for real. Love you, Mom.”
“I love you too, baby girl. Call me tonight.”
She calls me in the morning, and I call her at night. Sometimes we talk midday if I have a question or if she wants to see what I’m up to. She knows my schedule, so she’s never a nuisance. My father forced our ironclad bond. The love that dissipated for him after she finally left him and transformed into something else. It seeped away from him and traveled over to my mom. She did everything by herself and never let me see her sweat. Viola is strong and brave. She is beautiful and fierce. She takes challenges head-on. She loves me more than any person can possibly love another. Growing up, my needs were met, and my fond memories revolve around her laugh and smile. It’s the time she spent with me that leaves the most impact.
I hang up the phone with a smile on my face. With the red basket hooked on my elbow, I make my way to the next aisle to gather the rest of my supplies. My shoulders are back, and my head is held high. I’m a confident, independent woman. My life is full. There’s no room for anyone else in it.
Why the hell do I feel the need to keep convincing myself of that?
We’re sitting around Jasmine’s kitchen table, our wineglasses securely in our hands. Dessert plates look like tinybattlegrounds. Nary a soldier survived. My confection was the first to disappear.
“Who is up for a workout tomorrow? I need to get my cardio in for the week,” I say. To keep workout diversity, I like to do boot camp classes. It involves lots of free weights and treadmill sprinting. Yoga can only take you so far. If you want weekly dessert nights, wine,andabs, you have to do the time in the gym. My offer is directed at everyone, though I’m already certain who will join me.
Charlotte groans. “I’m in. Yeah. I’m probably only agreeing because I just ate my weight in sugar and chocolate, but pencil me in anyway. Ten in the morning tomorrow, right?”
I nod, and she drains the remnants of her red wine. Carina agrees as well. Jasmine says she’ll meet us there if her hair appointment doesn’t run over. Jasmine’s hair appointments always conveniently run over.
“Where is the commitment, Jaz? Hamstrings before highlights!” I exclaim, shaking a finger in her direction.
She rolls her eyes. “You’re one to talk about commitment,” she replies. It’s lighthearted, but I still cringe a little. Mostly my friends don’t mention my lack of a boyfriend. Charlotte is fresh out of a long-term relationship. One would think she’d be more understanding.
I laugh it off. “Listen. I have commitment. It’s a staunch commitment to not committing. That’s respectable, right? It’s not as if I don’t commit to anything. I have my studio and my fitness. I just don’t see the worth in committing to something that has the ability to commitless to me. My commitments are unwavering.” See what I did there? No one can argue with that logic.
Carina shrugs, checks her phone, and stares off in the distance. She’s distracted by a man. A taken one.
“You don’t know what you’re missing, though. Just once I want you to try. Keep your heart out of it if you want. Try to date a man. No bagging and tagging and high-fiving. Stay the night. Go on more than one date. Don’t have sex on the first night,” Charlotte says.
Someone laughs and covers a cackle with a giggle.
Jasmine nods her approval of the ludicrous plan. “I couldn’t possibly. Who could be worth that?”
“Who has been your best sex lately?”
I shake my head. “I can’t call one already on the list. I need a new guy if we’re going to do this properly.” Maybe it’s the wine talking, but this plan gets better and better as the seconds pass. Haven’t I wondered what it might be like to have someone to come home to every night?
Jasmine screams. “She’s considering it. Dear baby Jesus, she’s going to do it. The female gigolo is doing a man more than once.”
Blinking slowly, I hold a palm out. “Don’t seal this deal yet. I’m considering it. To prove all you bitches wrong.” I take another sip of my wine. “It means I’ll have to deviate from my usual type. That may pose a problem with chemistry.”
“Valid point,” Charlotte says. “How will you ever stand tolerating a man who respects you for more than what’s between your legs? The thought is horrifying.”
She forgot about my boobs. I paid good money forthose. I rid myself of my flat chest as soon as Flying Lotus, my yoga studio, started bringing in a steady income. They aren’t huge rocks bolted to my chest, nor are they so small as to not be noticed. I needed to be able to practice yoga without being hindered. My silicone bags are the absolute perfect size. If there is one thing you can find without fail in Southern California, it’s a plastic surgeon with precision skill. We have the best in the world.
Readjusting my bra strap, I glare at her. “It’s a mutual understanding that all we both care about is what is between our legs. Not just the men. I’ll have to change my mindset, too. When I’ve submerged myself in this type of situation for so long, you have to realize how…awkward it will be.” I let an actual date flit through my mind. One in which we talk and laugh. We share our interests and learn about each other with the sole intent being to get to know each other to see if our personalities jibe. It’s horrifying.
