“You really do like this guy, huh?” The sound of David’s laughter cuts through my fantasies, and I realize we’re on the expressway.
“No. The sex was just that good.” I lie. “I’ll be sure to fill you in on all the details later.”
“Please don’t.”
“Whatever. Hey, you didn’t tell me the rest of your resolutions yet. Spill.”
“No, thanks. I’ve repeated them to your mother countless times over the past three days. When you finally decide to call her back, you can ask her all about them.”
I roll my eyes.
“You, however,” he says, “can read me yours so I can pretend like I care.”
Smiling, I pull out my wallet and unfold my list.
I rattle off numbers one through seven—ignoring David’s request to enunciate the word “orgasm” properly, and then I notice that while the next two are the same, the rest of my list has been changed:
7. Write everyday...I’m supposed to be an aspiring journalist, but this list is the first thing I’ve written in months. MONTHS
(I called Vanderbilt...One of my old law professors works in admissions. Call them on Tuesday.)
8. Have passionate, hot sex...with someone who can give me an ORGASM...
(I think you’ve satisfied this one...More than once...)
9. Start working out...Ha! No. Scratch that...I’ll come back to number nine.
(Start smiling more. You’re too beautiful not to...)
10. And number ten too...
(Stop worrying about what your mom, your sister, or the rest of your family thinks regarding your decisions...Live your life for you.)
11. And I still need a number eleven ...
(Pick Blake up from the Nashville airport in four days...He wants to make sure two of the things on this list are ALWAYS taken care of...)
***THE END***