I almost never brought up my father, and with good reason. I didn’t know him but I hated him. The way Amy looked at me though, with her kind brown eyes. I could feel her genuine concern. After all the cardboard blondes I’d been dating lately, it was a fucking relief.

“If you don’t want to tell me, it’s okay.” She put a hand on my forearm. “But I can tell something’s bothering you.”

“No, it’s fine.” I took a deep breath. “Growing up, my mom always talked nonstop about what an asshole my biological father was. I’ve never met him, I don’t care to,” I said, watching her face and wondering what she was thinking. As I said the words, I realized I hadn’t admitted what I was about to say, to anyone. Ever. “But instead of my real father, she ended up with my stepfather Bob, and even though he was nice and all, it was so obvious to me that she didn’t love him.”

It was hard to admit that I thought my mom and Bob were just a relationship of convenience, not love. It’d also made me accepting Bob as a ‘dad’ in any way impossible because I never felt like we were a ‘family’, just two separate entities slapped together.

Amy’s expression didn’t waver. “No?” she asked, softly. “You sure about that?”

I shook my head. “He’s been good to me and my mom, but for my mom, I think he’s more of a, ‘well, I don’t want to be alone so I might as well be with you’ kind of arrangement. He clearly loves her more than she does him but my mom has traditional views on family and marriage. She’s never been that affectionate or warm so it makes sense why she married Bob, out of tradition and security than being in love with him. Ultimately, it made me realize that I…don’t really believe in love. It’s for some, but not everyone gets it. And that’s okay. So I became a master at leaving but it works for me. It’s not to say I don’t enjoy being with someone and being with that person for however long we’re together—but having the stereotypical life, just to have it because it’s expected of me…my mom, after two tries, taught me to not hope for or expect that much. Why bring kids into that, and make them feel what I felt my whole life? I don’t see the point.”

I stopped abruptly, not meaning to say as much as I had. Ironically, as a psych major, I’d never self-analyzed myself as much as I had in the past few minutes but as fluidly as I’d just spoken, I knew it’d been in me all this time, in the back of my mind and waiting for the right person to say all that to. It floored me, this revelation and I wasn’t entirely comfortable with it. I’d been purposefully blind to it for years, on purpose, but not tonight.

Amy placed a hand on my knee, her eyes searching my face. “Chandler—if your mom’s more reserved, it doesn’t mean she doesn’t love him any less then your stepdad loves her. She just may have trouble showing it. And to you as well.”

“I’ve…honestly never thought about it that way,” I admitted, startled by her observation. The lens in which I have viewed my mom and her marriage to Bob had never wavered from the moment I’d cemented my thoughts on love, marriage and relationships. It’s affected me in every way.

Amy inched closer and surprised the hell out of me by giving me a hug. When she leaned into my chest, a strong wave of emotion went through me, trying to tell me something. Except I didn’t know what. I wasn’t really sure I liked it but it was comforting, which was completely different from feeling comfortable about revealing my emotions.

“You look like you need it,” she said when she pulled back completely. I missed that contact and resisted the urge to keep her there, close to me.

“Um, thanks,” I said, still not sure what I was feeling. I pushed that aside and focused on her, taking a deep breath.

“So…you don’t want…a family?” she asked, tentatively. “Get married and everything that comes with it?”

“It’s not for me,” I said, firmly. “I knew that a long time ago.”

“Hence, why you jump from girl to girl,” she said, quietly. “Makes sense now.”

I shifted uneasily in my seat because I could tell my confession had stumped her. “You probably want all those things, huh?” I asked, interpreting her words. I swallowed, nervous to hear her response. Not that I was thinking about deal breakers with a girl I hadn’t even kissed… But I was.

She nodded, her expression hard to read. “And you don’t,” she said, her voice also taking on an unreadable note.

There was this silence that sat between us. I hated it but I wasn’t going to lie to her either. The consequences of this conversation, I’d figure out later. Right now, I wanted the topic off me for the rest of the night. I cleared my throat. “All right Squirt. I told you some of my dirty laundry. What about you? Or are you just all sunshine and wild dandelions, the same as you smell?” I teased.

“Very funny,” she said, but she forced a smile but it quickly disappeared. “What do you want to know?”

“What happened to you and your ex?” I asked, still very curious about it.  

“Okay,” she said, only hesitating briefly. “Have I told you anything about Scott?”

“Not really.”

She sighed and took a deep breath. “Okay, well, besides being a psycho, he fucked me up pretty good. And I didn’t even realize it until…” Her voice trailed off.

I set my jaw, imagining a slew of awful things. “He hit you?”

She blinked at me in surprise. “Oh God no. Nothing like that. He messed me up psychologically, I think.” She paused. “This is so embarrassing. And I can’t believe you helped me put this together.”

My eyes widened in disbelief. I pointed to myself as I leaned forward. “I helped you solve what? You’re going to have to fill me in, because I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

She giggled, then bit down on her lower lip. “Fine. Like I said, it’s embarrassing but I’ll tell you. You did just tell me some really personal things, or else I’d feel funny telling you this.”

I sat on the edge of my seat. Amy had been so upfront about most things. What could make a woman like her embarrassed? “I’m listening…”

“So the other day, when I saw you in your room…heard you saying my name…I couldn’t believe that a man could really be doing what you were doing and be fantasizing about me.”

I frowned, and scoffed, incredulous. “Why the fuck not?” I raised my voice a little. I was actually getting mad that a girl as hot as Amy didn’t believe she could be the basis of a man’s fantasies. I wanted to know who had knocked her self-worth down so low. “And what’s this got to do with Scott?”

She blew the air out of her mouth like she was taking a yoga breath. “So, when we were having sex, he would have to use porn to get hard. Sometimes. Well, like all the time pretty much.”

My mouth opened, lips parted. If my jaw could have hit the floor, it would have. The fact that this guy needed porn to get off when he had the hottest girl I had ever seen was beyond my worldview. “So your sex life must have been pretty bumping, I take it?” I mused, off hand.

She rolled her eyes. “Chandler. I’m being serious. Remember?”

“Sorry, I know.” Shit, I was making this into a joke. The thing was, I was now in uncharted territory, where I actually cared about Amy’s emotions. I was an expert at seducing women, not tending to their emotional needs. That was a mess I always left for the Beta males to clean up. “Go on.”

She fidgeted with her glass. “Basically, he told me it was my fault for not looking like more the girls in porn. He thought my tits were too small and my ass was too big…or something. I don’t even know.” She was going for blasé but I saw through it. “I’ve always been pretty confident in my skin but for the first time ever, I felt ugly. He made me feel…hideous…and unconfident.” She said that last part in a whisper and chugged half her drink before taking a moment to breathe. “Don’t get me wrong, there were other issues contributing to our relationship going down hill but that was what made me realize he wasn’t the one for me. I haven’t even been distressed by our breakup at all.”

Some serious anger surged through me at this Scott fucker. I loved women that came in all shapes and sizes. They all had their own personal strengths, of course. Amy was especially hot, though, and now that the fact that she was dealing with body image issues because of this dick grinded the shit out of my gears. Still, I had a question for her.

“So how does this relate to you not wanting to be with me? I mean, clearly the porn thing is not going to be a problem with me.” I looked her right in the eye for emphasis.

She touched her hand to my arm, and the electricity thing happened again in my body. Her touch inflamed me at the same time that it comforted me.

“He also told me I was bad at sex,” she admitted, nearly under her breath. “I’m afraid I’ll be bad with you.”

I slammed my fist on the bar, seeing red. “This motherfucker had to watch porn to get it up and then has the balls to tell you’re bad at sex? For the love of God.”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Now I’m feeling like an idiot for being with him for all that time.”

“You aren’t an idiot. He’s the moron that didn’t deserve you.”

My eyes darted to her hand that was still gripping my forearm. She squeezed once more and then let go. “Thanks for listening,” she said, her voice shaky and a little teary-eyed. “You’re a good friend, Chandler.”

I wanted to hug her like she had me but that wasn’t my style either, not really. I wasn’t the affectionate type of guy. We just sat together companionably, drinking our drinks and enjoying being in each other’s presence. I’d never had a serious girlfriend and never took relationships seriously. Mainly for the reasons I’d just told Amy. Some of the girls I’d been with thought they could change me, or change my mind about certain things once we had that discussion. That’s when I usually cut things off. I wasn’t going to change my mind for anyone for any reason. Considering the kind of example I had of what a wife and husband looked like in my own mom and stepdad, I knew I was a product of my own upbringing and Amy was right, some habits were too ingrained. I appreciated that she understood what I’d said and took it at face value. Not as a ‘maybe.’ She respected my choice and hadn’t tried to put her values on me. She wouldn’t be the type to try to change me, and that made me like her even more.

Amy was special, too special for the likes of me but that didn’t mean I didn’t want to still hook up. However, this moment had more meaning than me just thinking about sex and nothing else concerning her. I knew she meant more to me now and that gave me pause on how I handled her from here on out.

Amy took another sip of her drink. “How are you feeling?” I asked, looking over at her, referring back to our conversation.

She smiled at me. It was a little sad still and my anger at her ex flared up again. However, I didn’t want him to ruin my time with Amy. She was opening up to me and I felt like we’d reached some sort of stalemate where we could stop with the games and just be us, whatever that was.

“I’ll live,” she said. Then she thumbed toward Becca and Le Ral, who were a few feet away from us. “Pretty sure I’m not in as solid of a drunk mood as those two, though.”

Apparently, things were going pretty well between them because the two were sucking face like a couple of Hoover vacuums.

“Well done, Mr. Le Ral,” I said out loud, raising my glass in his direction.

I was on the road to being pretty hammered myself, but our serious discussion had sobered me up a bit. We sat together, shoulder to shoulder for another minute, and I realized something. I might not be with her tonight, but it would happen sometime soon. It was inevitable. And it would be fucking glorious when it did happen.

“Hey, be right back,” Amy said. “Going to hit up el baño.”

“Damn, your Spanish is on point tonight,” I joked.

“Shut up,” she ribbed. She kissed me on the cheek, and again, the kiss felt like it brought a shock down through my entire body.

I stared at her ass wiggling in her tight red dress as she walked away, and it was unfathomable to me how a girl like that could shy away from sleeping with someone because she thought she was bad in bed. Fuck that. Scott probably just didn’t know what to do with all that. I, on the other hand, already had one thousand and one ideas about how I could handle her.

As I waited for her to come back from the bathroom, I glanced around the bar. There were a lot of attractive looking girls, but to me, they were more like scenery then anything else. I wanted Amy. I wanted to see how she felt beneath me while I reached around and grabbed her ass, and her legs wrapped around my hips. Then I wanted to take her from behind and feel her ass cheeks against my hips as I slammed into her with my hard cock. Porno? I didn’t need any porno.

Hell, maybe we’d make our own porno.

My mind was racing with the fantasy of what I might be able to do with Amy if she wanted it as bad as I did when I felt a poke behind me.

“Hola Chandler.”

I turned around and the bad kind of goosebumps came over my body when I saw Norma standing there. She was definitely not who I wanted to see at the moment.

“Oh, hi,” I said, unsmiling. I really didn’t want anything to do with Norma tonight.  

“It’s so good to see you again.” Though she spoke in English, her accent was thick.

She plastered on a fake smile like she was so happy to see me, and gave me a big hug for which I braced myself. Even though we were over, I wasn’t going to be a jerk to her in public. Besides, I just didn’t care. I did care if Amy saw us together and thought the wrong thing.

Norma had the classic Spanish looks of long dark hair, lightly tanned skin and big, dark eyes. She was in a tight black dress showcasing she had a body she knew how to use—as did her mouth when she was making out with some rando the night I ended things with her. She had the smoldering look down pat and it’d lured me the first time we’d met but now it seemed more manic than I’d remembered.

“Listen, I’m here with someone,” I said brusquely but quietly just to her. I didn’t want a scene. “Can you please leave me alone?”

She flipped her hair and gave me her crazy eyes look. “Oh, playing hard to get tonight, Papi?” she cooed, leaning in close. The woman couldn’t take a hint.

“Norma,” I said, speaking sternly. “I don’t know what you want, but I saw you sucking face with some random guy at this very bar just three nights ago when we were supposedly seeing each other. I don’t see a reason for us to remain friends.”

Her jaw dropped at the strength of my words, but she didn’t move. In fact, they only seemed to egg her on more. Behind her, Le Ral took a breather and glanced at me with raised brows then behind before he looked at me again, like he was trying to tell me something. But I was too busy fending off Norma to read whatever message was in his eyes.

“You’re such a strong man. I remember why I liked you so much. But of course I’ll leave if that’s what you want.” She reached out and grabbed my bicep. I recoiled at her touch.

I almost shook her off but instead had to put a hand at her waist to keep her from climbing up in my lap.

“But is that what you really want?” she asked, in her most seductive voice.

My patience was thin before, now it was gone. I looked her in the eyes, her face nearly inches from my own. “It’s what I want. Goodbye, Norma. Get. The. Fuck. Away.”

I saw surprise then anger then resignation in her eyes. “Fine. But I’m always here if you want me,” she added, before swooping in and planting a wet, lipstick sticky kiss on my lips and some tongue before she finally walked away. I turned toward the bar and wiped my lips with a napkin. I ordered another shot just to get the taste of Norma off my tongue and lips. Odd how cheating turned an attractive person into someone you found disgusting and offensive for even sharing the same air as you.

A minute or so later, Amy appeared from the bathroom. I smiled at her, relieved that Norma was gone and I had Amy back. I felt more at ease in her presence. “What do you think Amy, one more round and we’ll head home?” I reached out toward to help her back in her stool but the expression on her face stopped me cold.

“No, I don’t think so.” She wasn’t smiling from the eyes like the way she had been before she left for the bathroom. In fact, that telltale shine to her eyes told me she was upset.

“You feeling okay?” I asked, concerned, but immediately picking up on her vibe. I wondered if she’d had too much to drink but she’d barely had anything other than a sip of a shot and she still had half of her gin and tonic left.

She had her eyes down, digging into her purse. “I don’t think so,” she murmured, and she really did sound a little sick. “I think I’m going to leave here pretty soon.”

I put my hand out to her shoulder. She called to the bartender for her tab. I also tagged the bartender’s eye and signaled to get mine ready as well.

“What can I do?” I asked, getting ready to leave with her.

“Nothing,” she replied, shrugging my hand off. “You and Le Ral should stay.”

Whoa. My mind was reeling at her sudden cold shoulder. “Why are you upset?” I asked.

She didn’t look at me. “I’m not upset,” she said, her voice hoarse. She wouldn’t look at me after she signed the credit card slip and walked over to Becca and Le Ral, who’d gone back to making out. She tapped Becca on the shoulder, who came up for air and was smiling from ear to ear.

“You ready to go?” she asked, forcing a smile.

Becca’s smile evaporated as she glared at me and also closed her tab out. I just stood there, baffled. Something had suddenly changed in Amy’s attitude toward me and I didn’t know what it was. I would have gone home with her, especially since we both lived in the same place, but she was clearly sending signals that she wanted to go home. Alone. Without me.

While I was stumped, Le Ral had a big smile on his face. Becca handed him her number with an equally big smile.

I still stood there, leaning against the bar, dumbfounded. Le Ral looked like he’d just won the lottery and was waving to them. I didn’t wave or smile back because I was confused.

“Women,” Le Ral stated with long sigh. “Aren’t they great?”

Jesus, the guy was practically swooning. “Shut the fuck up dude.” I punched him in the arm. “Amy just bounced for no reason. Why am I so good with every single girl besides her?”

Le Ral looked like I had just asked him the most obvious question in the universe. “Dude, she saw you chatting with Little Miss Fake Tits when she came out of the bathroom. She just stood and watched you two talking for a full minute. Her expression seemed like she’d gotten punched in the stomach.”

Le Ral imitated a slow motion replay of someone getting punched in the gut and going from extremely happy to very much frowning. I didn’t laugh.

Damn Norma and her fucking timing. All the progress we’d had tonight went totally out the door. I looked at Le Ral. “Fuck.”

“Well, I guess there’s only one thing left to do now,” Le Ral said, sitting down in Amy’s spot and pushing me to sit back down in mine.

“What’s that?” I asked, out of the mood.

“Get shitfaced,” he answered. “Hey bartender, can I have four Ring of Fire shots?”

He poured four of them, two for each of us. Straight bourbon.

“Good call, Le Ral,” I said, shaking my head. How had I gone from one high to another low all within a span of a few minutes? “I am going down in a burning ring right now.”

“Cheers man. Let the flames go higher.”

I shook my head as I took the hot shot down.