INDIA

I go back down the stairs after Jon, grinning to myself when he turns around and goes back up because Marina and Mermaid Girl are standing blocking the doorway. He can't escape and so he goes back upstairs, probably planning on waiting until they're somewhere else so he can escape.

Of course, I'm hoping for the same, but I'm also out of luck because before I can get to the back door through the kitchen, I'm corralled by Evan.

"There you are," he says, all pleased to find me. "I thought you might have skipped out on me."

"Why would you think that?" I say, a little bit too emphatically, my laugh nervous, my pulse still up a bit from Jon's kiss.

"I looked around but you were gone. I asked Marina and she thought you might have left without telling anyone. She said you do that sometimes."

"She shouldn't be telling stories," I say, shrugging. "I was just upstairs using the ladies’."

"Want another drink?" he asks, pointing to the kitchen.

"Sure," I say, sighing. "I'll take a Corona."

"Oh, don’t have a beer. I make a mean mojito."

I don't want a mojito. I want a Corona. But I acquiesce.

"That sounds great," I reply, forcing a smile, resigned to my fate of putting up with Man Bun for another hour or so before I can ethically escape. I glance around and see Jon trying to slip past a small group of people from Marina's grad class. He tries to do what I'm planning, but then Marina calls out and he stops walking, his body stiff. He turns to face Marina, and his smile is so fake, I'm surprised anyone is fooled.

Marina drags Mermaid Girl over and pushes the two of them together. She says something and then leaves them alone.

Poor Jon. Like me, he's trapped by his own unwelcome date. Now that they're alone, she stands really close, and they're almost eye-to-eye. He's smiling back at her and she runs her hand over his chest suggestively.

I know he doesn't think much of her, but she seems really interested in him and I wonder if he'll go home with her, like he has dozens of women when we've been at parties like this. He thinks she's a flake but she's got a good body, and that's always been good enough for him.

She stands even closer, and he leans forward, his head tilted to one side. She leans in and whispers something in his ear and he smiles and raises his eyebrows. I just know she's asking him back to her place – or inviting herself to his.

God, what ovaries.

At that moment, there's this part of me that wishes I was more of a slut so I could go home with Jon and it wouldn’t matter. I wish we could be friends with benefits and still maintain a successful partnership. It's not like I haven't imagined Jon in bed before – I have. I just know that the first time after we fucked that he took someone home besides me, my heart would break.

I'd resent him, and then how would we work together?

Jon opens the door and the two of them leave, Jon closing the door behind him without even a glance in my direction.

Before I can do anything, Marina comes over to stand beside me. She's grinning from ear to ear.

"Guess who just left with his new MATCHED date?"

"I saw," I say, trying to hide my displeasure. "It's not all that hard to get Jon to leave with a beautiful woman. He does it every weekend. I wouldn’t credit MATCHED for that. In fact, he told me he thinks she's a bit of a flake."

"Jon likes flakes. He always picks them out of a crowd of women. He just doesn't want to admit it."

I turn and look in her eyes. "You think so?"

"I know so. Jon thinks he wants to have a meaningful relationship, but he isn't ready for a real commitment. He wants a regular fuck buddy with no strings attached. Heather wants a hot guy to bang whenever she has a night off. They're made for each other."

She's smiling so wide it makes me feel depressed because, well, I am underwhelmed with Man Bun.

On paper, he should tick all my boxes. Smart. Educated. Ambitious. Sensual. Cultured. Tall. Dark. Handsome even if he has a man bun and curly moustache.

Many women would be happy to have his attention.

"Oh, here comes Evan," Marina says, wagging her eyebrows. "He's a hunk, isn’t he? Admit it – you think he's hot and smart."

I watch Evan approach, two glasses of what looks like storm drain water in his hands.

"Man bun," I say, disheartened.

"What?" Marina turns to me, frowning. "You don't like his hair? It's very fashionable."

"He's a hipster," I say under my breath.

A pretentious hipster.

"Exactly," she whispers. "He's cool. And very sensual. Now enjoy."

Then she leaves me, passing Evan on his way from the kitchen. "Hey, Evan. How are things going?" she asks as they stop briefly in the middle of the room, her voice loud enough that I can hear.

"Good," he says and raises his eyebrows to her. "Very good."

Then he turns to me, a smile on his face, and holds up the glasses. "Cheers."

I force yet another smile. "Cheers."

I take the swamp water and drink half of it down, squinting at the taste, needing at least some of the alcohol to help me tolerate the rest of the night.

An hour later, after Evan has recounted the bartending course he took so he could work at the campus pub, he moves on to how he loves really great bourbon and talks about taking a sommelier course, which is a course on how to drink wine.

"What's your favorite wine?" he asks, leaning closer.

"I like beer."

"Oh, so do I. There's this great craft beer company that has its microbrewery down close to the campus. I go there all the time. Steam, it's called. Have you tried it?"

"I like Corona."

"Imported beer is good," he says, and I can see his mind working on how to be nice with such an uncultured person as myself.

I hide my yawn behind my hand. "Gee, Evan, it's been really great meeting you, but I really have to get home so I can get up at the crack of dawn and go to work."

I shrug helplessly and smile.

"Oh, that's too bad. Are you sure I can't give you a ride? You’ve been drinking."

"So have you."

"But I'm a lot bigger and stronger than you," he says, standing a bit taller. "I can take it. I wouldn't want to see you get pulled over for a breathalyzer."

"I'm fine," I reply. "I know my limit. It's been an hour so I'm good."

Besides, there's the rest of the glass of mojito left because I don't drink weed water, even if it does taste like mint rum.

"Will I see you again?" he asks, his voice hopeful. "Give me your cell number." He takes out his smartphone. "I'll call you."

I comply, although I don’t really care if I ever see him again. I'll just block his number.

He leans over to kiss me but I turn my head so that he ends up kissing my cheek, his hand on my arm.

"See you!" I say and pull away, making a beeline for the front door.

Before I can leave, Marina grabs me and pulls me to the side. "Where do you think you’re going? It's only been two hours."

"Jon left after only an hour."

"Yeah, but he's getting some. And he doesn't need any. It's you I'm concerned about. You're the one who needs it."

"I don't need it," I say, although that's a bald-faced lie. "I want it, but I want it with someone I'm attracted to."

"You're not attracted to Evan?"

I shake my head and try to edge my way past Marina to the door. "Nope. Lady parts not responding. Sorry!"

"Oh, that's too bad." She frowns and examines me, her hands on her hips. "You and I are going to have to go over that questionnaire again. Maybe you're not answering truthfully?"

"Yeah, okay, we'll do it. Next week. Gotta go," I say when I see Evan approaching. "Bye!" I say and wave at Marina and Evan.

I leave and close the front door behind me, relieved that I've escaped having to say anything more to either of them.

I get in my car and drive off, glad to finally be free of the party, Evan, and Marina with her judging eyes.

I arrive home without being stopped by the police and go inside my place, locking the door and arming the alarm system. Then I plop onto my sofa and turn on the television, scanning the channels to see what I can find to watch. I should try to go to bed so I can get up and ride my bike before going to work, but I'm wide awake.

I find nothing to watch, so I switch on my Apple TV and watch Netflix instead, selecting the next episode of OITNB and pulling the crocheted afghan throw blanket around my shoulders.

I don't even know when I fall asleep.

Sunday is my decompression day, when I do nothing. I'm not even meeting the girls for brunch this weekend, and so I have all day to think about what happened with Jon and that kiss – two kisses. I don't know what happened but whatever it was, it wasn't good.

I spend all day on the sofa, watching Netflix and eating ever carb I can find in my cupboards, ordering in when I run out of food and all I have left is pickles and green olives.

I go to bed Sunday night feeling disgusted with myself for wasting an entire day, but I didn’t want to face Marina and I didn’t want to go into work to hear all about Jon's date with Mermaid Girl and see his self-satisfied grin.

Monday morning, my cell alarm goes off and I wake, the early morning light streaming in from the picture windows overlooking the Bay. I wipe my eyes and notice I've drooled all over the throw pillow. My back aches and I really should have brushed my teeth before falling asleep but the alcohol made me so tired, I didn’t bother before I started to watch television.

I check my cell. It's seven a.m., and I'm late, having slept through my first alarm at six thirty. I get up and go through my routine, then go outside and get on my bike for a half-hour ride along the road that runs along the highway. The exercise will blow off all my fatigue, and clear my head so I can go to work refreshed.

When I get back from my ride, I shove down some yogurt and eat a banana, then I have a shower and get dressed for work. Within an hour, I'm on my way to Pacifica's offices, ready to face another day of reviewing specs on the new satellite.

I climb the stairs to the third-floor offices and open the door to find Jon in his office, his laptop open and his cell to his ear. He's busy talking to someone, but glances up and waves at me as I pass by.

I wave back and think he looks a big haggard, and I wonder if he hasn't spent another late night with Mermaid Girl. Then I kick myself mentally. He doesn't do second dates.

In my office, I try to focus on work, but I can't help but imagine Jon and Mermaid Girl going at it. Would she be a squealer? I can't imagine she doesn't make a lot of noise. She seems like the enthusiastic type.

After about fifteen minutes, Jon pops his head in the door, a cup of coffee in his hand.

"Have you had your coffee? I picked this up for you on my way."

"Oh, no, I haven’t yet, " I say, and he comes in and hands me the cup. "Thanks."

I take a sip. He must have heated it up in the microwave because it's steaming hot. I glance at him. "How long have you been here?"

"An hour. I had a call to Australia I had to be in early for. Why don't you come to my office? We can look at a few numbers."

"Sure," I say and follow him out of my office and across the hall to his. He sits down in the chair behind his desk, watching me, a strange expression on his face. I take the chair across from him.

"So how did you and Man Bun make out Saturday night?" he asks, opening a file on his desk.

"We didn't," I say plainly.

"You didn't go home with him?"

"Nope."

He seems to relax a bit, leaning back farther in his chair. "I knew he wasn't your type."

"He wasn't," I reply, "although he ticked all my boxes, apparently. At least, according to Marina's app."

"I think it's a bust."

"Why?" I say, peering at him, curious. "You seemed to be happy with Mermaid Girl."

He shrugs. "She's pretty. A man is always happy with a pretty woman."

"How did your night go? I saw that you left together."

He grins at me. "I'll never tell."

I laugh, but there's a part of me that's annoyed at him. Will he ever be serious about a woman? He's such a manwhore.

"Too bad for you and Man Bun."

"Yeah, another failed attempt at having a real life," I say with an exaggerated sigh.

"You have a real life," he says, frowning. "A pretty damn good life, if you ask me."

"But no nooky," I say, and drink down some of my coffee.

"You could have it any time you wanted. You could have had it last night, by the way Man Bun responded to you."

I shrug and pick up this tiny stuffed elephant he got as a gift after making a donation to some wildlife rescue agency. "It's different for women. We're choosier."

He snorts at that. "Not my experience. Pretty much any woman I offer it to takes me up on the offer."

"Yeah, but that's because you have bimbo radar. You can pick them out of a crowd, so your sample is biased towards the women who will fuck any hot man who makes it available."

"You think I'm hot?" he says with a huge grin.

I throw the elephant at him in response and he ducks, laughing at me like he enjoys tormenting me.

"Seriously, India," he says, holding his folded hands in front of his chin, taking on a very thoughtful expression. "You could be having wild sex any night of the week you want. You just have to ask."

"Yeah, right," I say and stare off into the distance. There have been so few men I would even consider for a hookup. "I have standards."

"What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I said. I have standards. I know I could pick up any man I meet at a bar or party, but that's not what I want."

"You don't want just any man."

"No," I say, thinking about my perfect man. "I want someone smart and ambitious and funny and affectionate," I say and then I look at him. He's listening intently. "And loyal."

"Ahh, you mean monogamous."

"Yes, monogamous. I don't want to share."

He shrugs. "You have to be pretty damn good to entice a man to be exclusive."

"I am," I say, grinning at him.

He nods. "I bet you are."

There's a moment between us, and it's like we're staring each other down. Like he's waiting for me to say something in particular. Like, ‘Do you want me to prove it?’

But I don't.

"Well, if you ever change your mind and want something hot and satisfying but with no long-term commitment, I'm your man." He grins at me and then turns to his computer, opening some program and typing, the smile lingering on his face.

"Ha!" I respond, but damn, the very thought of us being fuck buddies sends a jolt right to my clit. Wow.

I've thought of that already – many times. But up until now, I've never said it nor has he. Now, it's out there. It's hanging in the air between us.

"That would probably destroy our business relationship."

"It might. It might make it better."

I frown. "How could it make our business relationship better?" I could squirm in my chair right now because of the uncomfortable swollen feeling in my core.

He speaks, and his voice is a bit breathless. He's feeling the same thing I am and it's only eight in the morning. "We wouldn't have to resort to other people to be satisfied sexually."

Damn… I'm always a bit aroused first thing in the morning and having that thought in my head – well, it makes me even more aroused now.

I stand, because I should leave now, and go back to my office before I say something stupid.

He stands as well. "We haven't finished talking."

"I think we have," I say, raising my eyebrows.

I turn but he gets to me before I reach the open door. He actually puts his arm out and blocks my way.

"Think about it," he says and yes, his voice is definitely husky. "I know I think about it a lot more often than I should. If we became lovers, it would simplify things."

I look in his eyes, and they're half-lidded, and I think I can detect desire in them. Or is it my own desire for him that I perceive?

"It would complicate things," I reply, equally breathless. Oh, God, what is happening?

He leans closer and I'm waiting for him to kiss me. Before he can, I hold up my finger and press it against his lips.

"I don't like sloppy seconds."

He stops. "We didn't fuck. I took her home and said goodnight."

"You didn't fuck her?" I say, a strange sense of relief flooding through me. "Why?"

"Because I wanted you."