Now that the shock had worn off, I realized that I wasn’t that upset about Becca. I wanted to be mad at her for lying to me back in December, but I knew she was just trying to be nice, letting me down easy with that bullshit about being too busy for a relationship. And I couldn’t blame her for hooking up with Jason, though I did wish she’d found someone a little more ordinary, who didn’t make me feel like such a loser by comparison.
The only girl I was really upset about was Amber. I’d sent her a bunch of texts in December and January, just checking in, trying to start a dialogue, but she threatened to block me if I kept bothering her. I hadn’t tried to contact her since then, so I figured maybe she’d calmed down a little. I thought about telling her I was joining the Marines—that would at least get her attention—but there was no way I was actually going to enlist. I had zero interest in shaving my head, and even less in going to Afghanistan.
I had a hard time thinking of what to say. I’d already apologized to her a bunch of times, and it hadn’t gotten me anywhere. I couldn’t think of anything funny or charming or even interesting, so I just wished her a Happy Valentine’s Day and left it at that. She didn’t reply, but my phone said she’d looked at the message, which I figured was better than nothing.
*
Eve was fast asleep when her phone dinged, shocking her back into consciousness. She sat up and threw off the covers, her groggy brain sorting through disaster scenarios as she tapped in her security code.
The text came from a number she didn’t recognize. It was three words long, a sad little joke from the universe.
Happy Valentine’s Day!
She took a moment to breathe, and get her heart rate under control.
Who is this?
There was a brief pause, and then a pleasant bloop!
Its me Julian
The glow from the screen was painfully bright. Eve’s fingers felt fat and clumsy as she typed.
How did you get this number?
Class list . . . last semester
Was that possible? Eve couldn’t remember putting her cell number on a class list. But maybe she had. In any case, another text had already arrived.
Am I bothering you?
She wasn’t sure how to answer that. It was sweet of him to remember her on Valentine’s Day. But not in the middle of the night. That wasn’t okay. Except it wasn’t the middle of the night, according to her bedside clock, just a few minutes after eleven. In any case, Julian had already moved on to the next question: R u in bed?
And the next:
R u naked?
Eve tugged on the blankets, covering her bare legs. She wasn’t naked, but she was pretty close. Just underwear and a T-shirt, not that it was any of his business.
Julian . . . please don’t do this.
There was a longish pause.
Dont you miss me?
This was an easier question. Of course, she missed him, just like she missed all her new friends from the fall—Amanda, Margo, Dumell, the whole short-lived gang. And she owed him an apology, too, for everything that happened on that night in November, and for ignoring the emails he’d sent her in the days that followed. But this wasn’t the time or place for either of those conversations.
Have you been drinking? she asked.
Im kinda wasted
Where are you?
His reply arrived in multiple parts, a rapidly accumulating stack of bubbles.
Vermont
Visiting my friend at UVM
This girl was hitting on me at a party
and I kept thinking
Id rather be with u
Eve laughed, because it was so crazy for him to be thinking of her under those circumstances. Except it wasn’t completely crazy.
Not crazy at all, come to think of it.
This girl, Eve wrote, because she suddenly needed to know. Was she pretty?
I guess
What did she look like?
Julian took another moment to gather his thoughts.
u r hotter . . .
Waaay fucking hotter
That’s sweet, she told him, adding a smile emoji. I’m flattered.
Two more messages arrived just as she’d sent hers off.
I jack off all the time
thinking of u
Eve grimaced. A murky sound escaped from her throat.
Julian . . . This isn’t a good idea.
Im so fucking hard right now
She closed her eyes and tried not to think about that.
I could send u a pic, he added.
Good night, Julian. I’m turning off my phone now.
He didn’t protest, didn’t even try to change her mind.
night eve
She didn’t really turn off her phone, but he didn’t text her again, which was too bad in a way, because she really did miss him, and thought he would’ve liked to know—not that she ever would have told him—that she was touching herself and thinking about his body. The orgasm that had eluded her before was suddenly within easy reach—right there at her fingertips—and a lot more intense than any she’d had in recent memory.
Thank you, she would have liked to tell him. Thank you for that.
Dirty Martini
Eve knew it was time to start dating again—it was one of her top three New Year’s resolutions—but it was hard to get motivated, to convince herself that she’d have any more success this time around than she’d had in the past.
Feeling the need for moral support, she invited her closest friends—Peggy, Jane, and Liza—for a pep talk/brainstorming session at the Haddington Brasserie and Lounge. It had been months since they’d had a girls’ night out—everyone had been so busy in the fall—and they all jumped at the opportunity to escape their houses on a weeknight in late winter, to drink a few glasses of wine, and put their collective romantic wisdom to work on behalf of such a good cause.
As excited as they were to strategize about the revival of Eve’s love life, they began where they always did, with a quick update on their kids, which was how they’d all become friends in the first place: young mothers in the schoolyard, on the sidelines at soccer games, at school plays and award ceremonies and graduations, a whole era of their lives—it had felt so permanent while it was happening—suddenly behind them. Just a chapter, and not the story itself.
Jane was missing her daughters, the smart, sweet-natured twins, both of whom were thriving in college. Liza’s son, Grant, had just embarked on a semester at sea, and the pictures looked amazing. Peggy was thrilled to report that Wade had survived the fall term, buckling down after a couple of disastrous midterms, and earning Bs and Cs on all his finals, which was better than anyone had expected.
“That’s great,” said Eve. “You must be so proud of him.”
Peggy nodded reluctantly, apologizing for her pride. Jane and Liza regarded Eve with identical sympathetic expressions.
“Brendan’s fine,” she said, deflecting their pity. “He just had a hard time. He was partying too much and . . . I don’t know. Something didn’t click. He still has some growing up to do.”
“He’ll get it together,” Liza said.
“On the bright side,” Jane added, “at least he’s back home. That must be nice.”
“I guess. But I was just getting used to having my own life again. I don’t want to lose that. I just want to get out and have some fun, you know?”
Eve’s friends were full of encouragement, confident that she would find love on the internet, or at least meet some appealing prospects. You just had to go into it with a positive attitude.