Page 71 of Sweet Caroline
Damn, you caught me!
But seriously, we really… went for it.
Until we passed out, basically.
I used to think I needed to drink to loosen up and get in the mood, but sober sex is surprisingly wild. Last night, I was so much moreaware. Sopresent. I felt every touch, every gasp, every little clench of Caroline’s muscles. The way her body responded. And I noticed the subtle stuff. Checked in. Adjusted. Communicated. There was nothing sloppy or blurry about how we fucked. It was intentional. And I felt more connected and in control than I’d ever been while drinking. I was so in tune with my own body—and hers—that it lit me the hell up. And the pleasure was fucking unreal.
I think that’s why we couldn’t stop.
Neither of us had planned for Caroline to spend the night; it had kinda just happened. She’d been so shaky and exhausted after all those orgasms that I’d joked about having to carry her to the shower, and then we hadn’t been able to keep our hands off each other once we got there. It had been well after midnight by the time we finally collapsed onto my bed and, by then, Iwasblurry—in the best way. I don’t remember much after that, other than pulling her against me. She was so fucking cute all sleepy and disheveled. And I fucking love being the big spoon. I was defenseless.
Cuddle puddle: 1, Miles: 0.
The door creaks open and that Nick-Chris-Mike guy gives me a small nod as he takes a seat across from me.
Caroline
I actually am a little… tender. I think that shower took a lot out of me.
Flashbacks to Caroline dripping wet thunder through me—how she’d clung to my neck, holding on with a death grip as she came on my hand. I have to cross my legs and discreetly adjust my half-hard dick as another few people file in for the meeting.
Not the time or the place.
Me
Look at me resisting that “I can put a lot into you” joke setup like an adult
Caroline
If you listen closely, you can hear my slow clapping.
Me
So that’s what that was!
Listen, I gotta run here, but uh… maybe I can help with any “tender” spots after our date tonight? I feel responsible.
Caroline
Looking forward to it, Mr. “I’m Good With My Hands.”
A broad grin splits my face as I pocket my phone. Glancing around, I realize how the room has filled up without me even realizing it, and my amusement falters.
Fuck.
This is exactly why I’m here.
Ever since Caroline showed up at my gym, I’ve been off my game. Distracted. And last night, incredible as it was, also left me feeling a bit thrown.
When I realized she’d snuck out on me before I woke up this morning, disappointment had percolated in the back of my mind. But, instead of going down that rabbit hole, I reminded myself of the facts: this is fake dating and bonus sex. Temporary. Nothing deeper and nothing long term. I’m not ready for a relationship and neither is she. Plus, we come from different worlds and we’re on completely different paths; she’s trying to let loose and I’m trying to rein it in. Incredible sex or not, it would never work between us in the long run.
Forcing myself to stuff it and focus on things within my immediate control, I’d doubled down on all the shit I know supports my mental health; with all this change in my life, I need to use my fucking strategies now more than ever. I’d hit the gym with Gus, put protein and vegetables in my face, drank a ton of water, scheduled an extra therapy session, and got my ass to this AA meeting. I’ll prioritize sobriety like my life depends on it—because it fucking does.
Russell opens the meeting with the usual preamble explaining AA, followed by a moment of silence. Then he asks that Nick-Chris-Mike guy—who I learn is actually Trevor,cool, not even close—to read a passage from the Big Book, which is basically the AA Bible.
Trevor reads aloud about how those who succeed in AA are the ones who are capable of “grasping and developing a manner of living which demands rigorous honesty.” The wording in the Big Book is sorta old-fashioned, but the gist is clear: honesty is key. It is, after all, essentially the first of the Twelve Steps; admitting you have a problem means being honest with yourself.
Facing that truth hadn’t been easy for me. I’d fought it for a long time. Lied and denied it more times than I can count. Onsome level, I’d fought it even after I first joined AA years ago. Sure, I’d admitted I had a problem, stuck to the program, and managed to quit drinking for a stretch or two that I was proud of. But some part of me had held back from fully committing—fully accepting I was an addict like the others. I’d held onto this irrational belief that I was different—that I could drink in moderation if I only learned to manage it better.
