During the walk home, a drizzle starts, and the drops are cold on my legs as I trot toward my apartment, trying to beat the rain.

A few blocks away, there’s a crash of thunder, and the rain starts again.

Thunder? November?

I’m still trotting, trying to beat the rain, when a cloud bursts, and pouring rain starts.

I stop trying to run. There’s no point any more, since I’m soaked to the bone. I take another sip of my luke-cold coffee, then toss it out on account of the fact that it’s filling up with rainwater.

Other pedestrians huddle under awnings and run for cover during the surprise storm.

But as for me, when the cold water hits my hot skin, I feel numb to it.

I think a tear rolls down my cheek, but I’m not really sure. I’m not sure about anything, anymore.

Last night I was sure that I was ready to move on from Carter and really give other guys a chance. Today, I’m actually thinking about giving Carter another shot.

No. I’m swearing off assholes, and I can’t let him back in my heart. Once he’s in again, he’s like a virus that won’t let me live without him.

The more I think about it—the more I realize he was a selfish asshole this past summer—albeit a hot, selfish asshole.

Very hot.

Speaking of very hot, the sex with him was…

Don’t think about the sex.

The way he took what he wanted from me though—especially that first night—will be forever etched on my soul, whether I like it or not.

I shudder as I keep on through the rain, people staring at me from under cover of their porches as I keep going.

Carter was toxic—is toxic—and the fact that he can’t get over something from high school shows the immaturity of his psychology.

That I expected something more from him is my problem, not his.

Not anymore. I won’t make the same mistake again. I won’t succumb to his handsome charms. His deep, sexy voice…and he is tall. So perfectly tall.

I swallow, feeling a wave of warmth wash over me as I get to my door, pull out the key, and turn it.

I must look like a wet dog, and the thing is, I don’t care this time.

Once I’m upstairs, I hear Lance snoring—he’s probably as beat as I am from last night’s couch sleeping.

Although ‘sleeping’ is a loose term for what we got on the couch last night.

After a hot shower, I dry off, put my PJs on, and slip into bed.

The rain drips down the outside window, the sky darker than normal for an afternoon.

I pull out my iPad, about to throw on some Friends re-runs when I’m hit with a wave of emotion I just can’t shake.

Covers still around me, I curl up in a little ball, feeling the tears building up.

I want a relationship—a real one.

Not whatever I had with Carter this summer.

Even if it’s partially my fault he’s turned into the monster he is.

Why’d he have to be so sweet today, out of nowhere? Was it an act? He seemed like a totally different person.

And that kiss…

Black butterflies swarm in my stomach thinking about that kiss.

I hate how he knows how to command my body, and how turning him down seemed like I was going against my own biology.

It probably was. The man’s genes were made to be passed down. Plus, I still care about him. I want the best for him. But I think he’s confused right now about what he wants. He may say he wants me back truly, but how do I know he’s not lying to himself about that?

I close my eyes and flashback to that very last morning in Chicago.

The day he fucked me on the kitchen counter, then told me he didn’t want a relationship.

What kind of a man does that?

The worst part—he made me come. Twice.

He always rocked my world, and was he even trying?

The tears roll down my cheeks, and I’m in full sobbing mode.

I try to hold back for a moment, but that only makes the tears build more.

Carter.

His lying father.

Carter’s lies.

Was Carter’s sour attitude my fault?

No, a voice says.

This is my life to live.

I’m in New York now—a fresh start.

Instead of putting on Friends, I search a Spotify list for getting over your sex.

Ex.

I mean getting over my ex.

Goddamn him for always making me think dirty.

Wiping a tear away, it hits me that maybe there is a negative correlation between off the wall, great sex, and a stable man.

The better the sex, the more unstable.

Through my tears, I laugh off that I can’t get our sex life off my mind.

The first song comes on, Somebody I used to know.

Yeah, that sounds about right.

I let the notes and the lyrics pump through me. What a great effing song.

As the song changes to Blood in the Cut by K Flay, I fade and fall asleep.

When I wake up, my eyes are puffy, but I feel relieved in a way, like the weight of the world has been lifted off my shoulders. I have a vague recollection of some dream with Carter and I, but it’s one of those dreams I can’t fully remember.

I pick up my phone, and a notification comes up for my automatic credit payment.

Still paying the bare minimum. I really need to figure something out about that.

Then, a message flashes from Josh.

Josh: Hey, hopefully this isn’t too forward. But what are you up to tomorrow?

Lacy: Hanging out with you J

As I hit send, I don’t even feel nervous.

I feel like I’m conducting a business transaction.

And that’s okay, I think.

I’m twenty-six. It’s time to stop using butterflies as my guide for men.

Maybe I’ll use my new theory: the anti-butterfly rule.