Three Little Words

“Ah. Okay. Me. But… why don’t you feel the same about Daphne?”

“I did, sort of, but then I felt sorry for her. I mean, she never did anything to me, did she? And I was so horrible to her. Then I saw how protective you were. Sara, too. You’re both a bit like Rich that way. And I know how he feels about me, so I guess you and Sara feel the same about Daphne.”

“Yeah, we do,” I said. “Daphne’s had a crappy life in a lot of ways. She’s a good person, though, and she deserves better. Sara and I want her to be happy. But to answer your original question… No, I don’t have feelings for Gracie. We never got that far. I knew pretty early that we didn’t fit.”

“So you didn’t love her. It was just… sex?”

“No. It’s never ‘just sex’ with me. Well, sometimes it is, but that’s a whole ’nother discussion. I’m weird, I guess. Not like most guys. I want some kind of connection before I sleep with someone.”

“Which is why you didn’t with any of Wren’s friends, over the summer.”

“Even though I was sorely tempted a few times.”

“But you did sleep with Wren.” Again, it wasn’t a question.

“Right.”

“That’s it? Just… ‘right’?”

“It’s a little late to deny it. So, what do you want to know? I mean, I’ll tell you the whole story if you think you’re ready for it.”

“Ugh! I hate it when you do that!”

“Hold on, do what?”

“Make me think! And question my beliefs! You’re bad for my moral certitude, you know that?”

“Um… thank you? I think. But… have I done something wrong?”

“Of course you have! I lived a nice, simple life before I started dating you. I knew exactly what right and wrong were. But then you came along and wrecked everything. Now my life’s full of ifs and maybes and buts and sort ofs.” She was irritated instead of morose. “And since you asked, I did want to know the whole story. Right up till ten seconds ago, when you asked that stupid question.”

“What question?”

“Am I ready for it?”

“Ah. I think I understand. So… are you?”

“Yes! No! Maybe! I don’t know.” She scowled. “Isn’t that what you say?”

“Yeah,” I chuckled. “All the time.”

“And that’s what I mean about you being bad for my moral certitude.”

She waved away my question before I could ask it. “It’s a Catholic thing. It has to do with doubt. Get James to explain. He’s the theologian in the family.” She flicked her hand at me. “Note to self…”

“Got it.” I grinned. “Note to self: talk to James about Birdy’s evolving morals.”

“My morals haven’t changed! I’m still the same good Catholic girl!

Who… just happens to be naked with a man who isn’t her husband. Who plans on sleeping with him. And wants to go all the way. Before the wedding.” She grumbled and pretended to glare at me. “You’re a bad influence. I can’t even call myself a good Catholic anymore. I’m lapsed like everyone else. And now I understand that verse from Proverbs: ‘Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall.’”

“Pride goes before the fall?” I said in plain English.

“Exactly! I used to be proud of myself, that I was a good Catholic; I knew

exactly what right and wrong were. But you make me think, make me question myself. And… I don’t like some of the answers lately.”

“Don’t like them? Or aren’t willing to accept them?”

“The first one. I mean, you just told me you slept with Wren. I should be furious, jealous, screaming mad.”

“Instead…?”

She laughed darkly. “I’m mad that she did it first.” She finished her whiskey and poured more. “Exactly,” she said to my unasked question. “I don’t care that you had sex with my best friend. I’m upset that she knows what it’s like and I don’t. I’m too chicken.”

“You aren’t chicken. You were just raised differently. And if it makes you feel any better, I don’t want to spend the rest of my life with her.”

“I know. I get it. But… dammit, I wanted to be first!”

I chuckled, which earned a petulant glare. “You’re first in my heart,” I said. “Does that count?”

“It helps.”

I grinned and gestured her closer, so she turned and scooted between my legs. I set my drink aside, rubbed my palms together to warm them, and began massaging her shoulders.

“Thank you. That feels good.”

“Yeah, I kinda figured you were tense.”

“You know me so well.” She paused to gather her thoughts. “I guess I’m really annoyed at myself. I want to go all the way with you, but…”

“Sex is more emotional for you,” I said, “more of a commitment, more…

intimate.”

“Yeah, but it’s just a penis and a vagina. They’re practically made for each other. Besides, it’s more intimate when I suck you, but I don’t have any hang-ups about that.”

“Lucky for us,” I chuckled. “I mean, I’m willing to wait a long time for sex, as long as we’re doing the other.”

“I know, right? And I guess that’s why I’m not really upset about you and Wren. She may’ve slept with you first, but I get you for the rest of my life.”

“You think so?” I asked, serious rather than flippant.