“Ineed urgent advice, Indie. About sex.”

“Why are we whispering, girl? Are you hiding in a broom closet? Because let me tell you, those things are not fun to have a fuck in. Find a bed, preferably a floor you won’t be cramped up on.”

“When have you had sex in a closet?”

Silly question. I smiled anticipating her response. If anyone could cheer me up it is India.

“High school. Jamie Stiller’s sixteenth birthday party. I gave him a present he won’t ever forget in his parents’ closet. Then in college. I think the football team had won the championship, I don’t remember, all I know is I woke up drunk in the dorm closet with my hand on Simon Denver’s cock. I’m assuming we banged, still don’t know if we did to this day, but every time I go back to the old neighborhood, and I see him at the bars that jack-hole blushes to his eyebrows.”

I was as Cleopatra, sans milk, relaxed in my claw-foot bathtub surrounded in bubbles and candles for ambience. The scent of vanilla doing nothing to calm my jumpy nerves. I’d gone backwards and forwards with how things had gone down —pun intended— last night and still I had no answers.

Just a lot of What. Fucking What. And Omg What.

“Poor Simon Denver’s. He probably doesn’t want you to tell his wife you sucked his soul out through his dick.”

India cackled. She really was a tonic.

“So, baby-girl. What’s the sex advice? Hit me with it. Let mama tell you how to reach orgasm in three easy steps.”

“Do those steps include inserting a penis?”

I heard her gag. “Don’t ever say penis. What are we five? It’s dick. Or cock. Or monster schlong. Or God if he’s built.”

“You’re so bourgeoisie, Indie.” I told her grinning. “So. Hypothetically.”

She snorted disbelievingly, thankfully she allowed my subterfuge hypothesis.

“Of course.”

I went on. “What do you do if you get a little…. physical with someone you’re not meant to be that way with, but you’re interrupted with a work thing and now you don’t know how to proceed with this person.”

“Damn. I knew I should have lit up for this. Girl, I need wine.”

“Indie, it’s morning! Have a coffee.”

“Crap. Okay. Let me grab the creamer while I think on this for you. I’m dieting, I’m telling myself this creamer is full fat instead of the diet crap made by Satan. Okay. Firstly, who the hell is the person; married?”

“It’s hypothetical, remember.”

“Right, right. I call bullshit. But we’ll get to that later.”

I love Indie I really do. We met not long after I got into town in a coffee shop, she was yelling at the barista for getting her order wrong and then in the same breath she complimented my shoes. We’d been friends ever since.

“Is it a boss? Friend? Cousin?” I chuckled and told her friend.

“And full sex didn’t happen?”

“No. They got called into work suddenly.”

“Who passes up an orgasm for work? Seems dubious.” I frowned. Yeah. But then I knew the importance of Noah’s clubs. Everything was fine with Diamond as it turned out. I checked online for news of the drugs raid, but the cops were always dropping by without notice. Noah had no choice but to leave. Right?

“What would you do?”

“Me? I’d climb right back on when I saw them. But I’m guessing you’re not going to do that, my southern wallflower. Excuse me.” Her entertained attitude was clear. “Hypothetically you won’t do anything. How was it? Before the interruption.”

“Amazing.” I sighed and slipped down in the water until my chest submerged. “So, freaking amazing, Indie. Now I’m all in my head about it and cautious about how to proceed from here.”

“Ahhhh, yeah. A girl's worst enemy. You already know I’m going to say to get out of your own way and make it happen. Seize the opportunity.”

I do. She’s said it before. Not so easy when I was fighting against the current of confused sexuality and the reappearance of a damn ex. I told her as much. “And there’s an ex in the picture again.”

“Fuck them. Not literally. They’re an ex for a reason, don’t even give them thinking time.”

She’s right. I know she is. But my worry meter was going nuts.

“So, our little computer nerd almost got some.” She chuckled. “I feel like a proud mama watching my baby go off to sex school or something.” I joined her in amusement. “Just don’t tell Noah. Your hubby is monstrously territorial where you’re concerned and who you screw, Sena.”

Oh, shit. My face instantly filled with blood and I thanked god Indie wasn’t in front of me or she’d guess right away. “Remember that guy you dated, what was it, for a month? And Noah got right in his face that time when whatshisname called you a name?”

Mika. He was a sales rep. And boring as hell. And he’d told me ‘hurry up, bitch’ one night in the club. I’d assumed it was a joke. Noah obviously hadn’t taken it that way and told him in a quiet violent voice to never fucking address her like that again if you want to keep breathing.

Swoon. But I saw her point.

Because as crazy as it seemed to do as she advised I was just not that confident to continue with Noah the next time I saw him. If I made the first move and he rejected it, I’d be crushed.

My brave only took me so far.

I thought about avoiding him again, but he’d have a shit fit. Going on as normal was my only option. Yeah, basket of chickenshit for one. Cluck-cluck.

I finished my bath and dressed for a day of design work at my computer. So, my pink ratty sweats and comfy socks and a slick ponytail in front of my iMac was me set for the day.

Noah in the back of my mind the whole time.

It wasn’t just the sex. Not really. I had butterflies in my belly thinking of all the things I truly wanted from him. We might have stepped—briefly—out of the friendzone, bizarrely, but what then? After we knocked hips. What did we do then? Go back to being best friends, while I watched him fall in love with someone—god, not Tom. I would puke.

I wanted love and a relationship.

When I’d grown up with two parents who didn't give a rat's left eye for what their PDA anywhere-everywhere did to their teenage daughter it was hard to settle for any kind of love after that. I witnessed perfect togetherness every day it's hard to settle for less.

I knew what love looked like. Real crazy mad for each other love.

I wanted it more than anything, and I wasn't willing to settle for mediocre.

But the sex. I really, really wanted the sex, too. See my dilemma. It was a hard line. A very hard line from what was digging into my belly last night.

Damn. I couldn’t get that out of my head.

He didn’t call or text. I try not to let that alter my worry.