Somehow, Tristan and I fall into a new normal. A couple of weeks pass. He continues to see Tea (I hope that they’ve had that talk about their relationship and that he’s not leading her on, but I don’t know). I keep seeing Simon. Simon and I go on four dates. Each one better than the one before. Slowly, but surely, we’re getting to that place. You know, sex. Possibly.

“So you haven’t done it yet?” Juliet asks one night while clipping new extensions into her hair.

It was out of the blue, but I’ve been meaning to talk to someone about it. She might be my best option.

“No, not yet,” I sigh. “I’m not sure if I’m ready.”

“What? Why?” She stares at me as if I’d lost my mind. Clearly, I have to explain it to her more bluntly.

“Well, I haven’t done it with anyone else since Tristan. So I feel a little uneasy about the whole thing.”

“But you like Simon, right?”

I nod.

“So what does this have to do with Tristan, again?” she asks, brushing one of the extensions.

Everything seems so simple to her. I wish I were more like her. No complications. No analysis. Just living life by the seat of her pants. But I have a problem with living too much in my head. It has never really gotten me anywhere good. I just don’t know how to stop.

I shrug. I don’t know how to answer her. “It has nothing to do with him. It’s weird.”

She rolls her eyes. She’s wearing so much make up that the eye roll is particularly exaggerated, reminding me of a cartoon character.

“No, what’s weird is that Tristan’s seeing that fat chick after dumping you, of all people, and they’re doing it like rabbits while you’re dating someone hotter than your ex and not doing it with him.”

Juliet’s words leave me breathless. I don’t even know where to begin addressing that action packed statement of bullshit that she laid on my lap. I decide to start at the beginning.

“First of all, Tea’s not fat,” I say.

“She’s big boned,” Juliet and I say at the same time. Juliet’s mocking me.

“And she’s really nice,” I add.

Juliet shrugs. “Fine, you want to go around pretending to like your ex’s new girlfriend, you do that. I don’t see him doing the same thing for you, but okay.”

“What do you mean?”

“What do I mean?” Juliet turns to me and uses the hair curler as a pointer. “Alice, Tristan’s got a girlfriend and he’s super jealous about what you’re doing with Simon – some guy you’re not even sleeping with.”

I hate to admit it, but that makes me really happy. I feel a little smile forming on my face and force it away. I change the subject.

“You really think that Simon’s hotter?” I ask.

Juliet rolls her eyes, again. “I’m not even justifying that with an answer. Your attachment to Tristan is ridiculous. He fucked up. Broke up with you. Why can’t you just move on?”

“I am moving on,” I say. It no longer feels like we’re joking around. Now, I’m getting mad. “I don’t want Tristan back. I wouldn’t even take him back if he wanted to get back together,” I add.

I’ve never said those words out loud. I barely let myself think them before. But saying them now feels true. Honest. Yes, I wouldn’t take him back. It’s over. We’re over.

“So why are you so afraid of sleeping with Simon?” Juliet asks.

“I don’t know.” I shrug. “The only thing I do know for sure is that it has nothing to do with Tristan. It’s all me. I haven’t slept with anyone else. Maybe I’m just scared.”

* * *

Later that night, Juliet goes out to one of the clubs in Soho. It’s Tuesday night. Juliet likes to go out on weeknights because, according to her, “that’s when the clubs are full of locals” and not the bridge and tunnel kind. I’ve gone out with her once on a weeknight, but then couldn’t concentrate for shit in class the next day. She goes out a couple of times per week and insists that she’s perfectly fine the next day. But then again, I don’t spend my Wednesday mornings sleeping in and my Wednesday afternoons in a class on breathing. How can there be a whole semester on breathing? Is there even enough material to cover over twelve weeks? And if there is, how the hell are the rest of us getting by without this intensive 12-week class on something so elemental and essential to life? I doubt I will ever discover the answers to these questions.

I had invited Simon over to study earlier that day and he comes right after Juliet leaves. Unfortunately for me, I’m the only one who has to study. He’s coming to draw. I didn’t want to make any final plans about what would happen later tonight, but I decided to play it safe and shave my legs and other important parts of my body, just in case. I put on my best pair of panties and curse myself for not having a matching set of bra and panties. I mean how hard is it to get a matching set, anyway? You’re an adult now, Alice. A woman. And women have matching bra and panty sets!

I look at myself in the mirror. Black no-line panties and a black push up bra with lace and little flowers near the straps. The bra makes my breasts look like they’re a C-cup, even though they’re barely a B. My mom likes to say that these bras are false advertisements and that men will be undoubtedly disappointed. My sisters and I know she’s joking, but none of us are as well-endowed as she is. And at this point in my life, I’m not ready to go under the knife like many girls in my high school did. So the push up bra will have to do. And if he’s disappointed…oh well.

Once I make the undergarments decision, I turn to my closet and face a much more difficult and complicated decision: what to wear on top. I pull out two pairs of jeans, two t-shirts, two blouses, a skirt, and a dress. I try on a total of four outfits. One’s too dressy. Another one is way too dressy. One’s too casual and not feminine enough. Finally, the last one is just perfect. Skinny jeans, a tight Polo sweater with black and white stripes and a pair of Uggs with little bow ties in the back. I look at myself in the mirror. Cute.

Simon comes on time. He’s dressed in loose fitting jeans and a sexy grey t-shirt that hugs him in all the right places. After giving me a brief hug and a warm kiss, he throws his coat on Juliet’s bed and plops down on mine with his sketchpad.

“Can I draw you while you study?” he asks and begins to make an outline without waiting for my reply.

“What?” I ask. My hands grow cold and shivers run up my spine.

“C’mon, please?” he pleads.

No, I shake my head. Absolutely not, I think to myself.

“Why?” he looks up at me with his beautiful blue eyes. The light in the room makes them look hazel and even more mysterious and cunning than usual.

“Because I’m way too self-conscious!” I say. How’s that not obvious? Who the hell would agree to have themselves be sketched and feel okay about it?

“You have no reason to be self-conscious. You’re beautiful.”

Simon says that in such a quiet, unassuming way that I believe him. I know that’s exactly how he feels.

“Thank you.” I smile. “But that’s still a no.”

He puts his sketchpad away and inches his way close to me. I’m sitting with my legs crossed on the other side of the bed and he puts his hands on my knees and pulls himself closer.

“C’mon, I’m very respectful,” he whispers and kisses my hand. “This isn’t going to be like Titanic or anything, if you’re worried. You don’t have to take your clothes off.”

“Well, thank you for that.” I roll my eyes. I wasn’t even thinking that it would be, but now I am. Titanic’s my favorite movie. I’ve watched it a million times. My sisters don’t get it because it came out before my time, but I love old movies!

Simon smiles at me and refuses to break eye contact. The mention of Titanic has intrigued me. But there’s no way that I’m posing naked. Kate Winslet has way more guts than I do.

“Okay, fine. Suit yourself.” Simon pulls away from me. He gives me a quick peck on the cheek to show that they are no hard feelings and goes back to his sketchpad. I open my notebook and try to concentrate on my notes on Catcher in the Rye. Unfortunately, I can barely read my own handwriting or make out anything that I wrote down. Nothing I read makes any sense and after five minutes of struggling, my eyes start to drift.