The Heart Principle (The Kiss Quotient #3)(7)

“Yeah.” More or less.

“So are you seeing people again?” Michael persists.

“Not really.” From the look on his face, I know he understands that I really mean “not at all.” My body feels personal in a way it never did before. Getting naked with someone was never a big deal in the past. Sex was never a big deal. Plus, I was good at it, and that’s always a confidence booster. But now I’m scarred and slightly damaged. I’m not what I was.

Michael gives me a long look before he kicks at some rocks on the pavement. “I’ve thought about how you might be feeling. I can’t say I really know, because it’s not happening to me. But have you thought about maybe just ripping the Band-Aid off?”

“You mean like stripping down and riding naked through SF on Naked Bike Day?” I ask.

Michael grimaces like he’s in pain. “Can you even ride anymore after everything?”

I give him a disgusted look. “You’re doing it wrong if you ride sitting on your balls.”

He laughs and scrubs a hand wearily over his face. “Sorry, you’re right. And no, Naked Bike Day isn’t what I meant. I was thinking that maybe, if you’re uncomfortable about being with someone again, maybe it would help to just do something really casual that doesn’t matter. Like a one-night stand, you know? Just to get the first time over with. And by ‘first time,’ you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ve been thinking about doing something like that, too.” It’s just that the idea of it leaves me feeling hollow, which isn’t like me. Casual sex has always been my thing. No strings attached. No expectations. No promises. Just fun between consenting adults.

“I have a friend who—”

My whole body cringes, and I don’t wait for him to finish before saying, “Thanks, but no, thanks. I don’t want to be set up with anyone.” Least of all Michael’s female friends. They try to hide it because he’s taken, but they’re all in love with him. I don’t want to be some weird kind of consolation prize. And what kind of prize would that even be with me like I am? “I know how to meet people.”

“But will you actually go out and do it?” Michael asks. “From what I can see, all you do is work and run now.”

I shrug. “I’ll reinstall my dating apps. It’s easy.” And kind of boring. It’s always the same thing—messaging hot chicks, recycling the same witty lines, arranging a time and place, meeting and flirting and all that, the sex, and then going home alone after.

Michael gives me a skeptical look, and I make an exasperated sound and unlock my phone.

“Here, I’ll do it right now. You can watch.” I download a bunch of apps, some that I’ve used before, some that I haven’t.

Michael points at one of the apps and arches his eyebrows. “Pretty sure that one’s only used by prostitutes and drug dealers now.”

“You’re shitting me.” It’s a famous app that everyone was using two years ago.

He shakes his head emphatically. “There’s this whole code that they speak to avoid cops and detectives and everything. I wouldn’t really recommend that app for you. It’ll get awkward. Do you need tips on pickup lines or anything? You’re kind of scaring me.”

I delete the app and give him an insulted look. “I had cancer, not amnesia. I remember how to have a hookup. And how do you even know about that app? You quit dating before I did.”

Michael shrugs, cool as a cucumber. “People tell me things. You can tell me things. Anytime. About anything. You know that, right?”

“I know.” I release a tight sigh. “And I’m glad you came. I need to move on. This will be good for me. So … thanks.”

He smiles slightly. “I’m going to go, then. Stella’s parents are coming over for dinner, and I haven’t gone grocery shopping yet. Unless you want to come?”

“No, thanks,” I say quickly. Stella’s parents are nice and all, but they’re so proper and wholesome that hanging around them always feels like a trip to the principal’s office to me. I’ve spent too much time in principals’ offices as it is.

“Let me know how it goes, okay?” Michael asks.

I feel stupid about it, but I give him a thumbs-up.

With a wave good-bye, he heads off. Only when he’s disappeared around the corner do I recognize the hollow pang in my chest. I miss him. It’s the weekend, nighttime is rolling around, and I’m super aware that I’m all by myself.

I open up one of my old apps and start editing my profile.





FOUR





Anna

THE NEXT MORNING, I AWAKEN ON MY COUCH IN THE SAME exact position as when I collapsed last night, too tired to go the extra distance to my bedroom. I slept like a corpse, and I basically feel like one today. My head aches, and my muscles are sore. It’s like I have a hangover even though I missed the fun of actually getting drunk. Yesterday was too much. The looping hell of violin practice. Therapy. Dinner with Julian. The blow job. Our discussion.

Ugh, I’m in an open relationship now. I need to decide if I want to start dating. Groaning, I cover my face with a throw pillow. I should get up and start my day, but I have zero desire to do anything.

My purse vibrates against my thigh, and I plop a limp hand inside and half-heartedly fish for my phone. If my mom is yelling at me about something, I’m going to ignore her until lunchtime. I just can’t deal with her right now.