Playing It Safe(33)

“Yeah, you need to spill it,” Sarah agrees.

“Fine, but I swear that if either of you says anything to anyone else, I will do everything in my power to make your lives miserable.”

They both swear in unison, so I go on and tell them in an almost whisper what they’re dying to hear. “He said that he was going to make me come so many times that I wouldn’t have time to come up with more excuses as to why we couldn’t be together.”

Lisette crosses herself while Sarah says something about Jesus and how incredibly sexy that is. Seriously, if this wasn’t all about my personal life, I’d be loving this little meeting of the minds like nobody’s business. But seeing as it’s all about me, I think it’s safe to say I’m not enjoying myself too much.

“Well at least we know he’s not a mangina kind of guy,” Sarah says out of the blue.

I’m almost too afraid to ask, but come on, wouldn’t you be sitting here wondering what the f*ck she’s talking about? I may regret it later, but I’m totally going to bite on this one.

“What the hell is a mangina?” I ask, trying to keep a straight face.

“Oh, my best friend Sandra came up with that. It’s when a guy, usually a really masculine or hot kind of guy, acts like a complete …”

“Like a complete what?” Lisette and I both ask at the same time.

Sarah cups her mouth, and in an almost inaudible voice says, “*.”

In between laughs I manage to say, “Alrighty then, I’d say that marks the end of this little powwow.”

“Yeah,” Sarah says while standing up to leave. “I have to get back to the gallery before Alex thinks I’m never coming back. And I still have to stop somewhere and buy a box of tampons.”

I’m about to tell her that she probably doesn’t need to actually go out and do that because it’s not like Alex will check to make sure she did. But you know what? I keep my mouth shut because it’s just more fun that way. She runs out as quickly as she appeared, leaving Lisette and me all alone again.

“I hope you’re happy now,” I say to her after we’ve stared at each other for a few seconds.

“I’m not going to be happy until you get your head out of your ass and go for it. This isn’t like you, Julia. Think about it. When was the last time you were such a mess over a man?”

I know exactly when that was, and thanks to that little comment, we have officially acknowledged the elephant in the room.

“Julia, he’s not Aiden,” she says carefully.

“I know he’s not Aiden,” I answer a little too defensively.

“Then what’s the problem? Why do you need anybody’s help or advice?” she asks.

“I don’t know. I … I’m afraid I’ll screw it up. I always screw it up.”

“No, you don’t,” Lisette says. “And if I catch you saying that about yourself again, I will personally kick your ass up and down Ocean Avenue.”

I choke back a laugh at the visual. Lisette may be mouthy and opinionated like me, but there is no way in hell she can take me.

“Don’t laugh,” she warns. “You’ve only seen pieces of my Cuban temper.” She pauses and then adds, “And stop feeling sorry for yourself—it doesn’t become you. So what if you saw Aiden the other day? He’s a jerk and doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as you. Get over it. Don’t let him be the reason that you hold back on Alex, because that’s not fair to not only him, but to yourself too.”


“You think I don’t already know that, Lisette?” I ask. “Trust me, I do. And for the record, I’m not feeling sorry for myself.”

“Oh no? Are you sure about that? Because it sure sounds like you are.”

“Okay, okay,” I say through gritted teeth. “Maybe you’re a little right about the feeling sorry for myself bit.”

Lisette stands up and places both hands on my desk and narrows her eyes at me. “Julia, you don’t need help or advice. What you need is to let go and admit that you want Alex. That you want more than sex with him. Because until you do, you’re going be a miserable bitch. So do us all a favor, and pick up the phone and call him.”

“Gee, don’t hold back on my account,” I say sarcastically. Inside though, I know she’s right.

Her eyes dart over to the phone at my desk and then back to me. She raises an eyebrow as if to say, “I dare you.”

“Fine, I’ll call him, but you have to promise to help me plan this party. I need you around to be my buffer.”

“That’s not going to happen. I mean, I’ll help you, but you’re going to deal with him whether you like it or not.”

“Whatever,” I grumble, annoyed over this turn of events.

“Yeah, whatever,” she laughs while standing up and heading to the door. “And a hundred bucks says you’re going to like it. A lot. So start dialing.”

Once she’s out of sight and I’ve come to the inevitable conclusion that my plan has turned to shit, I stare at the phone as if it’s about to sprout wings and fly away at any moment.

“Don’t be such a chickenshit,” I mumble out loud to myself. Then I pick up the receiver and angrily start pressing buttons as if I have a personal vendetta against the phone.