I remember where I am before my eyes open and wonder if the safest thing to do is keep them closed.

Waking up means all of this really happened.

I am really in bed with Tanner James.

I really spent all night having hot, dirty sex with him before we collapsed next to each other, too worn out to move.

This was obviously not my best decision--who jumps back into bed with the man who broke her heart once before?

I sneak one eye open a peak just to be 100% sure. It catches Tanner’s tan, muscular shoulder just where it meets his hulking chest, and I feel a fresh wave of desire roll down my body, making me want to jump on top of him all over again. I’ve been trying to forget what it’s like to have Tanner James inside me for the better part of a decade, and now I have to start all over again, because the answer is really fucking good.

No. The answer is the fucking best.

And last night was better than even the hottest nights we’d had in the past. I’m so confused right now—what am I doing? I went from cutting him off to seducing him in the span of two weeks. I can blame my libido, or the old feelings from the past bubbling to the surface. But another part of me is wondering what if? What if we…?

But no, of course there won’t be a we. It’s impossible.

Although we certainly had some very compelling orgasms last night...

Even the thought of it prompts a very familiar pulsing in between my legs. If I stay in this bed a second longer I will have no control over what happens next. And that won’t go any further toward untangling my thoughts and feelings about what all this means for Tanner and I.

I slide out of bed and pad to the other room to throw on my clothes. Tanner is still sound asleep, though he murmurs something I can’t understand as I ease the door open. I don’t know if he’ll be offended or relieved that I snuck out, but it’s what I’m doing. I’ll have to face him eventually, but when I can’t avoid conflict entirely, I will definitely take procrastination if available.

I stop by my room for the world’s quickest shower and change before heading downstairs. The lobby doors open onto crisp Canadian air, and my head already feels clearer.

I catch a sly smile from the valet and wonder if he remembers me walking in with Tanner last night after leaving the set. I can get by without being instantly noticed when I’m by myself, but every single person in this town – if not this world – would recognize Tanner James. He’s an international superstar. People are dying to catch him with a brand new girl, especially if she happens to be the old girl. Put us together, and we’re instantly recognizable.

At least, we used to be.

Trying to clear my mind, I smile back, slip the valet a tip and jump into my rental car.

I have no particular destination in mind, just a vague idea about finding a tea, a park, a quiet place to think.

The first few blocks are bliss. I fly by a few shops and cafes as they’re just starting to open for the day. I see a few locals taking their goldendoodles and French bulldogs for a morning stroll. A few joggers are braving a run along the hilly streets for a morning sweat. I wonder if I can re-discover the cute little coffee shop from my walk. Slowing the car, I look for familiar landmarks.

Unfortunately, the one I find isn’t the one I want.

I’m right across from a spot called The Hot Griddle Café…the exact same name as an LA spot Tanner and I ate pancakes in the morning after our first time together. We’d sat next to each other in a booth, unable to be even as far apart as across the table. Hot coffee and maple syrup tasted like desire to me for months after.

And with that my blissfully clear mind is jam-packed full of the thoughts I’d meant to be avoiding: How could last night be so good after what Tanner did to me? Could we really go back to how it was in the beginning after he cheated? Should we talk about the video? It was just a kiss. Was our whole relationship worth throwing away for one kiss?

What if he’s right and I ran away too soon?

I give up on the little shop and park, walking into the first Tim Horton’s for a quick cup of chai and a yogurt. I bolt them both down, hoping the combination of caffeine and protein will lead to the kind of mental clarity I’m seeking, but to no avail. Maybe there are no good answers, I think, as I toss my trash in the bin and push open the door.

But on my way to the car I have the strange feeling that I’m being followed. I pick up my speed and try to see if there’s a person trailing me in the window of one of the shops near Walfred. No luck. I slow down a tad, wondering if I’ll be able to hear real footsteps, but I can’t make them out against the music blaring from a nearby car. So I take the risk and turn around.

Snap.

I’m shot with the bright light of a camera flash. Fucking paparazzi. This guy is tall and thin with dark hair and a serious five o’clock shadow for this early in the morning. He looks like most of the rest-- disheveled and hungry for blood.

I cover my face knowing they’ll never be able to sell an obscured shot and dash toward my car. He follows, snapping away, but I win out, hop in and speed off.

There’s only one possible way to salvage my morning if I plan to be any good on set this afternoon, and as soon as I’m in my hotel room, I pull out my laptop and connect to the internet.

“Why on earth are you Skyping me before noon on a weekend?” Walter asks grouchily as he rubs his eyes.  

“Because I fucked Tanner last night,” I reply.

“And I’m awake,” he says, moving off-camera for a moment and reappearing in his favorite kimono with a can of Red Bull.

Even from miles and miles away, Walter saves me. He insists I call down to room service for an immediate Bloody Mary and directs me to put on one of the lavender-infused facemasks that he slipped into my suitcase before I left LA. I am now slightly calmer.

Walter, on the other hand, is in what he would call “a tizzy.”

“Think you have enough booze in you to discuss the fact that you walked out on Tanner instead of facing the music, Missy?”

Now I’m not so sure that calling Walter was the best idea.

“What was I supposed to do?” I couldn’t think straight with a Greek god next to me in bed.

“Not cower like such a fucking conflict avoider, like you always do.”

“I wasn’t avoiding conflict. I was avoiding fucking my co-star/ex-boyfriend for the third time in six hours.”

“Third?”

“We did it twice. Once in the bed, once in the shower.”

Walters fan himself dramatically. “Hold on. I need a minute to live vicariously through your sex life because mine is a barren wasteland.” He takes a deep breath, his eyes closed, a smile perched on his lips. Then he reopens his eyes. “Okay. Go on.”

“I was saying, what was my option given the situation? But now I need to make it clear this fling is not going to become a thing.”

“One fuck fest does not a relationship make, Jenna.”

“But it starts there. And next thing I know, I’m in deep all over again. Since when has anyone been able to have casual sex with an ex without getting feelings involved?”

“Valid point.”

“So this has to be a one-shot deal. If it turns into a regular activity, I’m not going to be able to handle it. And the second time my heart gets broken by him, I’ll only have myself to blame.”

“What makes you so sure about that? I mean I’m the last person who should defend shacking up with an ex—because I’ve done it so many times and we both know how that’s worked out—but, I should not be used as an example for anything. You guys were so young when you were together. I sure as shit made some mistakes at that age I’ll always regret. What if you’re Tanner’s one big regret?”

My heart gives a little jump at the thought, and I sternly tell it to stop. I’m only second-guessing the past because I want to believe that I can trust Tanner now. But wanting something to be true doesn’t make it so. And if I’d been wrong about the extent of his cheating, he surely would have cleared things up a long time ago.

“I know Tanner,” I say to Walter, hoping he won’t probe any further. “And I know that I can’t trust him with my heart ever again. I will literally not survive a break up like we went through last time around.”

“I hear you on that,” Walter says with a raise of his own cocktail glass. Walter is of the strong opinion that no one should ever drink alone, even on the phone. “But I have to say, I disagree. Sort of.”

I pause, confused. What could he possibly disagree with?

“See, I’m looking at you with your cute little morning-after glow, and confidence in your face I haven’t seen in a very long time. Would just the sex alone really be that bad? If you already have your mind completely made up that you can’t trust him, you’re in a lot less danger of finding yourself falling for him again.”

I’m quiet for a moment, considering. I see where he’s coming from, and the thought of more sex definitely isn’t terrible. In fact, it’s the opposite of terrible. That leaves just the question of trust. I know I can’t trust Tanner, and this scenario makes that a non-issue, but can I trust myself not to get emotional?

“I’m not going to lie—sex with Tanner is so insanely amazing that it’s actually making me consider this. When I was with him last night, I felt more powerful and wanted than I have in years. Maybe you’re right. Maybe I do need that confidence right now. Does that sound crazy? Is that using him?”

“Yes, but in a good way. He’ll be using you too. It all works out.”

“Maybe it could even help me with the role,” I say, but as I do, another thought enters my mind. It’s a little devilish, and a little selfish, and I know Walter will eat it right up. “Honestly,” I confess, “I might not have it as good as Tanner ever again. Don’t I deserve the best sex of my life for just a few months? And then at the end, I get to be the one to walk away like the whole thing was no big deal.”  

“Now you’re getting messy and risky,” Walter warns. “I’m starting to have second thoughts. Let me mull it over a bit more. Now, tell me the real business--any cute guys in Wardrobe or Makeup that I need to fly out and meet?”

I spend the next quarter of an hour entertaining Walter with tales from the set, then I wrap things up in time to get ready for my call time. We’re in the middle of goodbyes when my phone pings with a message.

It’s from Tanner.

Sad your side of the bed was empty this morning.

I smile a devilish smile.

“Do not reply to that text that is clearly from Tanner without my approval!” Walter commands.

“Don’t worry,” I say, “I’m not going to reply at all. Not until I’m sure about what happens next.”

After I hang up with Walter, I throw on the hotel’s fabulously plush terrycloth robe, pull my hair into a ponytail, and then settle onto the chaise in the sitting area for a little brainstorming session with the black and white striped notebook my mom gave me for a birthday gift.

On the top of a blank page I write: New Rules for Tanner and Jenna.

I look at the headline, then tear out that page and start over.

This time I write: New Rules for Jenna.

Tanner James is not going to control my life again. This time, I’m going to be the one in the driver’s seat.