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An hour later, I step out of Nordstrom Rack. My trusted jeans and Converse in a bag, and a bright-blue sundress we found clinging to my body. I glance down at the camel-colored wedges that were already causing my feet tothrob.
A proud smile beams on Steph’s face when she snatches the bag from my hands. “You lookpretty.”
“Well, I feel like aslut.”
She laughs. “A slut? The dress almost hits yourknees.”
“Maybe when I bend over! And it’s from the junior’s department, Steph. As in, people undereighteen.”
“Which means it’s fun and flirty. Exactly what you need to be. Jesus, where’s the Charlie who flashed her tits for a set of cheap, plastic beads at MardiGras?”
“She stayed in New Orleans back in two thousand andfour.”
“No, I’ll tell you what happened; Spreadsheet Man sucked all the fun right out ofher.”
I watch a businesswoman speed-walk past, her cell pressed to her ear and her red high heels just moving along the sidewalk like they’re a pair of Nike Airs. “God, how do women do this everyday?”
“After a while, your feet just kind of go numb,” Stephsays.
We stop at the corner across from the coffee shop. A sightseeing bus whizzes by, the wind ruffling the skirt of my dress and exposing far too much thigh. I don’t have a clue what the hell I’m doing. I shake my head as the panic sets in. “Steph, I was a bumbling idiot the other day in the store. Last week, some guy from that HookUp app sent me a sext. It took me ten minutes to Google a response that didn’t use the words ‘wet folds,’ and then I didn’t evenrespond.”
“YouGoogledsextresponses?”
I furrow my brow. “Yeah.” I want to smack her rolling eyes right out of herhead.
“Wow, Charlie. Just wow! All you have to do istalk.”
“Aboutwhat?”
“You know, stuff. Like, what you do. What he does. Basic bullshit.” She waggles her eyebrows. “Then go to his place andfuck.”
“God, you’revile.”
A group of men bump into her when they try to scoot by. She glares at them before returning her attention to me. “Seriously, it’s just fun to hang out with a hot guy.” She shoves her finger against my lips, silencing the argument she knew was coming. “And no, having casual sexoccasionallydoes not make you a whore. Just have fun for once,okay?”
At one point in my life, I was exciting. Spontaneous. But the thing is, age does something to a person. Marriage. Life. Divorce. Somewhere along the way, I lost myself, and I’m almost envious of Steph for still having youthfulvibrancy.
“Holy hell!” Steph pulls her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose and stares across the street. “That man is a liability to women’s pantieseverywhere!”
Following her gaze, my eyes land on Elijah, dressed in a navy suit that must be tailored to fit him precisely, because dear Lord, it’s like a secondskin.
Steph catcalls when he reaches for the door to the shop. “Hey! Was your momma a beaver, becausedam.”
I whack her arm. Thankfully, Elijah must not have heard, or just didn’t care, because he disappears inside without losing stride. “What iswrongwith you?” Ihiss.
“What? Men do that to women all the time. It’s only fair they get a taste of their ownmedicine.”
“That’shim,you fucking, hornyperv!”
Her mouth shapes the perfectO,and her eyes go wide. “Holy. Hell. Charlie! That man is sex on legs. In a motherfucking suit!” She shoves me. “You slept withhimand don’t remember how itwas?”
I close my eyes and inhale. “Not really. Bits andpieces.”
“That’s depressing.” She glances at my crotch. “I’m so sorry your owner hatesyou.”
She’s seriously talking to myvagina.
