Fuck It (Yama Yama)

“Okay, not the response I expected.” She sits down beside me. “What’s going on?”

“I’m supposed to go away this weekend with my two best friends. San Marco Island.”

“Woo, fan-cy.” She grins. “It’s beautiful there. What’s the problem?”

“One of my friends also invited Simon, who I suspect sees this as our little getaway,” I explain, using air quotation marks around the word our.

Understanding softens her face. “You think things are moving too fast?”

“Considering we’re just supposed to be having sex with no strings attached, yeah.” I take a bite of my sandwich and watch Ava’s reaction from the corner of my eye. I sound like a slut.

“Do you think he wants more?”

“I’m afraid he does. I don’t know. I’m thinking I’ll just get through this weekend and then break it off, not that we’re really together. I’ve been on the other side of this situation and it doesn’t end well when only one person has their heart in it.”

“I’d ride him like a bronco this weekend then.”

I nearly spit out my drink, laughing. “I have to introduce you to Kasha and Henley soon. You’d fit right in.”

Coach Bro approaches with a paper bag from a local fast food place. “Oh hell, fuckboy alert,” I announce.

Ava shakes her head. “How is that the sperm that won?” She leans over to whisper, “Lesbian powers activate.”

We laugh as he takes a seat across from us. “What are you two laughing at?”

“Oh, nothing, just penises,” Ava replies nonchalantly.

“They’re so funny looking,” I add, trying not to laugh.

“It looks like Alf’s nose. Remember, from that old TV show?” Oh my god. Yes, this woman has to meet my besties.

A frown creases his face. “My cock isn’t funny looking. It’s a beautiful beast.”

Ignoring him, I continue. “There was one guy who whipped his out at a party last year, and I about died laughing. It looked like a wet French fry. And his testicles weren’t symmetrical.”

“Symmetrical testicles. That would be an awesome band name,” Ava points out.

Standing up, I pretend to hold a microphone and announce, “Now, please welcome to the stage, Symmetrical Testicles!”

We dissolve into giggles like we’re twelve instead of twenty-somethings in charge of young minds.

Coach Bro’s jaw hardens. “Very funny. I guess you think your pussies are beautiful?”

“As a sunny day,” I agree.

“Whatever, pussies look like a punched lasagna. I met one chick who looked like she had a sideways cheeseburger in her panties. Dicks are better.”

Ava reaches across the table and puts a hand on his. “It’s okay to be attracted to dick. We won’t tell anyone.”

“What?” He jumps to his feet, a horrified expression on his face. “I don’t like dick! I’m a pussy man until I die. I get all up in there! You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

He storms away, and we both nearly suffocate from laughing at him.

“I don’t think he’ll be hitting on you anymore,” Ava says.

“Maybe I should tell Simon I’m gay,” I suggest.

“You already fucked his brains out. Pretty sure it’s too late for that.” Ava looks at me. “Do you really want to break things off with him?”

“No…I don’t know. I just don’t want things to get too serious.”

“You don’t have much control over that, girl. If you want my advice, I say go and have fun. Let whatever is going to happen play itself out.”

Sighing, I gather up my trash. “You’re the second person to tell me that.”

Ava shrugs. “You said you were starting over here. To start over, you have to let all that past shit go.”

“Is that what you did?”

Her smile is slightly strained. “I’m trying to.”

Our conversation is ended by the ringing of the bell. Time to go back to work.

Ava covers for me with the afterschool program so I can leave a little early and be ready when Simon arrives to pick me up. I packed last night, but after a day around a hundred pint- sized petri dishes who wipe their noses wherever the hell they feel like it, I always need a shower.

When he shows up, I’m showered and shaved, my hair up in a messy ponytail. I choose a pair of comfortable shorts and a t-shirt for the long drive.

His face lights up with a smile, throwing those pesky butterflies into my stomach again. I want to kiss him. I shouldn’t want to kiss him. He saves me the internal battle by grabbing me and taking my lips prisoner with his.

Damn, the man can kiss.

When we break apart, he takes a step back. “Ready to go, beautiful?”

It’s then I notice the black band around his wrist. “Is that a fitness tracker?”

“Uh, yeah. It’s this stupid contest at work to see who gets the most steps in.”

I pull out my phone and load the fitness app connected to the tracker clipped to my waistband. “What’s your screen name? I’ll add you to my friends.”