Fuck It (Yama Yama)

My head shoots up. “What? I wasn’t jealous!” God, is that what he thinks?

Henley blinks at me and raises an eyebrow. It’s clearly what she thinks. “I wasn’t jealous. I just…thought I was rid of him and…” I snatch up my phone. “I need to call Simon.”

“Good idea,” Henley says. “I’ll be in the sunroom if you need to talk, okay?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Simon won’t answer. It rings until I get a voicemail recording so I switch to text.

Me: I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have taken off like that. Please call me.

His reply is quick.

Simon: I don’t want to talk right now.

* * *

Me: It had nothing to do with jealousy, I swear. I don’t want Anderson.

His next message sends shards into my chest.

Simon: I don’t think you know what you want. You said you only wanted sex, then just last night you wanted to be with me, and today you’re mad over your ex. I’m going back home. Figure out how you feel and then we can talk.

No, no, this isn’t happening over text. The second time I try to call, it goes straight to the voicemail message. He’s turned off his phone.

The ache in my chest is familiar, but more severe than it was when things ended with Anderson. Which is crazy. Simon and I haven’t been seeing each other long. This is exactly what I didn’t want to happen.

To be hurt again.

Another cramp strikes, urging me to my feet when all I want to do is sit here and feel sorry for myself. Stupid period on this stupid trip with a stupid man who makes me stupid. I’m so lost in my thoughts that I almost run over Sicily right outside of my room.

“Sorry,” I mumble, and reach for the door handle.

“Lydia.” Sicily stands in front of me, her hands fiddling with each other. “I was looking for you. I heard what…happened with Simon. I just—I’m sorry. I know I probably broke the girl code and everything, with Anderson, but if I thought you still had feelings—”

“I don’t.” Her mouth snaps shut at my abrupt interruption. Now I feel bad. “I’m not interested in Anderson. At all. You don’t have to worry about that. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I should’ve told you. You’re my roommate. And my friend. At least, I’d like to be friends.”

“I’d like to be friends too. It’s none of my business if you’re with Anderson, but I’ll be honest. I don’t like it. Not because I’m jealous or because I want him, but for a few other reasons.” My body gives me another warning that I’d better get moving. “We can talk later, okay? I need to use the restroom.”

She forces a smile and steps back. “Of course. I’ll see you in a bit at the spa.”

Right. The spa. Great.

As soon as I let myself in, I make a beeline for the bathroom and breathe a sigh of relief that I made it to a tampon before Lucifer’s waterfall could destroy another pair of sexy panties. Not that anyone will be seeing them anytime soon now.

Simon’s suitcase is gone, and the room feels too empty. Maybe the spa is a good thing. There’s no point in sitting here brooding over things.

I let things get too serious and now I need to stop. I need to remember I’m the new Lydia who doesn’t need a man. Who can make it on her own and was doing just fine in my new town.

As if it knew I needed a reminder of my new life, my phone notifies me of another email. It’s an appointment time for an interview later this week.

Perfect.

Monica has gone all out on our girl’s evening and hired a limousine to pick us up and take us to the day spa. Along with Kasha, Henley, and Sicily, Monica has brought along one of her friends named Brenda. The six of us sit in the back of the limo, sipping on champagne, and it’s kind of classy for about five minutes until Kasha speaks up.

“Okay, I can’t keep this inside. I found out something and it’s just…oh my god!” She covers her face with her robo hand, shaking her head.

Monica instantly looks concerned. “What is it, dear?”

“You aren’t going to believe it and if you did already know, I can’t believe you wouldn’t have warned me!”

“What?” Henley asks. “What happened?”

“Roman and I were going at it this morning…”

Monica closes her eyes with a small groan, but Kasha continues. “And afterward, we started talking about favorite positions. His is doggy.”

“I didn’t need to know that,” Monica says, and Brenda chuckles.

“No, it gets worse. Way worse. Do you know why his favorite is doggy?”

“Why?” Henley and I answer in tandem, making us all grin at each other.

“The view.” When we don’t react, she leans forward, nearly sloshing the champagne out of her glass. “He said guys like it because they can see our butthole!”