His follows, fast and hard.
And laughter… from both of us. I rest on top of him, breathless.
Jacob kisses me, handing me the roll of toilet paper we keep in his nightstand. Our lazy, slightly weird way of avoiding ruining the sheets. “We still got it, baby.”
But as I lie there, his arm across me, and toilet paper between my legs, guilt starts to swirl in every corner of my mind. And the high starts to wear off just enough to make the heaviness creep back in. We do still got it. The sex was great. He’s not a bad guy. He’s the father of my two beautiful kids.
What the hell is wrong with me?
My stomach, that’s what. It won't stop growling. Gummies plus sex equals serious munchies.
Jacob passes out almost immediately afterward and starts snoring like a bear who’s been hibernating for months. I tiptoe to the bathroom to get cleaned up, trying not to laugh. When I catch my reflection in the mirror, I let out a snort. I look like I just had sex with my hair. I mean bear. My husband. My bear husband. Damn it.
I throw on pajamas and head straight to the kitchen, ready to eat the entire damn fridge.
Peanut butter. Nutella. Bananas. This might not be a good combo with pasties. Unless… I add ice cream! Problem solved.
I probably shouldn’t grab my phone. But of course I do, and I start texting Izzy.
Me:Hardcore sex session complete. Let’s see if your advice works, and I only have wet dreams tonight.
Me:Also, um, please don’t wear anything sexy tomorrow… I just thought about you during sex. With your brother.
Send.
I take another spoonful of Ben & Jerry’s. Who are Ben and Jerry anyway? Just two more men who feel good in the moment but are bad for me—and even worse for my ass. Just as I start to Google them, Dylan’s name flashes on my screen.
Dylan: Hey, did you get the box of goodies I left you?
Me: YOU!! Beep. Please leave a message. Jenna’s left the spaceship. And to answer your message, she's not allowed to ride with you on any tables or start living. Over and out.
Or at least, I’m trying to leave Dylan’s spaceship, but he’s making itmucho dificil. Look at me. Who knew a few gummies would bring out my high school Spanish.
Dylan: Haha, you ate them!! Did you like the little gummy adventure?
Me: Oh, I’m liiiiiking it as we speak. Currently enjoying a banana, peanut butter, Nutella orgasm. Why does everything sound like an orgasm right now? Don’t worry, I don’t need to borrow your banana today.
I snap a selfie with a banana on my lips and send it. I immediately regret it.Unsend. UNSEND.
Then eat more ice cream. Damn it. Brain freeze. Good. I deserve that.
Dylan replies instantly.
Dylan:Hahaha!! I can never unsee that! The chocolate smeared on your lips, with those yellow bird pajamas, really brings out your eyes. Did Jacob eat them too?
I glance down at my sleepwear and groan. Why do I keep buying animal-themed pajamas? My thoughts drift. Does Dylan sleep naked? Socks on or off? Back or stomach?
Focus, Jenna.
Me:Yep, he’s out cold now. Okay, ready for this? Listen. Or is it read? I’m gonna text you like I’m NOT high, even though I’m definitely, absolutely, ridiculously high. Genius, right? You’re welcome.
I should write this stuff down. Every thought feels like a brilliant revelation.
Dylan: I’m never ready for anything that comes out of your mouth.
Me: First, is my body thinking, or my mind thinking right now? Second, if you were a robot, would you take over the world with me… naked? Third, isn’t high-me way more fun than sober-me? … Also, I think you broke me.
Dylan: Both. Hell yes. All of you is fun. But I think the real fun is just getting started. ;) Sweet dreams, Jenna. Talk to you when you're sober.
