I thought about my buddies with curtains and girlfriends, and the one with a wife. Were they happier than me? I didn’t think so. Maybe the married guy, but they were still newlyweds. That glow wouldn’t last. It certainly hadn’t for my parents. Sure, maybe wedded bliss made for some cozy Sunday mornings in bed, but were the Saturday nights still as hot?

And maybe feeling that someone would love you unconditionally for the rest of your life would be nice, but wasn’t that a lot of responsibility? You had to make the same promise, right? How would you know if you could love someone forever? Did I even have it in me to love someone that deeply? She’d probably want me to do things like wear pants every day and have brunch with her Republican parents and answer my phone. I just didn’t see that happening. Frowning, I took another swallow.

One person. Forever.

Fuck that.

But what if that person was Natalie? said a voice in my head. You think you couldn’t love her like that?

“Well, it’s not her,” I muttered, tipping back the last of my scotch. “It can’t be her. So fuck it.”

Instead of going home, I drove to Dan’s condo after leaving Miles in the parking lot. I had it in mind to surprise him in bed wearing something sexy—except that I had nothing sexy, not at Dan’s and not even at my house. I slept in tank tops and shorts. One Valentine’s Day, Dan had gotten me a red lace nightgown but it wasn’t the right size. I took it back and picked out a fuzzy pink robe instead. Red lace wasn’t really my thing.

Now I was beginning to panic that sexy wasn’t really my thing. Maybe I was the problem in our sex life—was I boring? Passive? Uninspiring? What could I do to spice myself up a little?

I thought of Miles letting some woman tie his balls to a wall and felt like a cloistered nun. It wouldn’t even occur to me a man might like that! I could sort of understand something like a blindfold or whipped cream, but really? Being tied up felt good? Maybe I’d been missing out. Not that I was going straight to bondage tonight, but after bragging about our fire to Miles this morning, I could at least try to light one.

Dan wasn’t home yet, so I hurried into the master bathroom and rummaged around in the vanity drawers. Maybe I had some scented lotion or something, and we could give each other massages. That was sexy, right? Or at least sensual? Unfortunately, I couldn’t find anything other than unscented Eucerin, which did not say unbridled passion to me.

Frustrated, I threw it back in the drawer and decided to hunt around for a candle. I managed to find one fat, short pillar in the linen closet, and I found the lighter in the kitchen junk drawer.

In the bedroom, I lit the candle, took off all my clothes and slid beneath the covers. Immediately, I thought of Miles. Was he still at the bar? Or was he getting it on with that bartender by now, his face buried in her breasts, his hands on her ass, his hard cock driving deep inside her? Jealousy stole my breath for a moment.

Don’t think about it. It’s none of your business.

I checked the time on my phone and discovered it was nearly eleven. I hoped Dan wouldn’t be too much longer since I had to get up in about five hours, but I didn’t want to call him to check. That would ruin the surprise. Maybe I could take a nap—that was a good idea, right? I could nap, and I’d wake up all refreshed when I heard him come in. Then I’d attack. I’d be aggressive and confident. I’d whisper dirty words, tell him exactly what I wanted him to do to me, and that would turn him on so much he’d be unable to hold back. That worked in the movies, anyway.

Closing my eyes, I lay back and thought about what to say.

I want you to fuck me.

Gasping, I pulled the sheet to my chin. Could I really say that? Dan would probably have a heart attack. Not that I was totally silent during sex; I made the appropriate noises and all, said the usual that feels good and mmmmm and yes yes yes, oh oh oh kind of thing, but I’d never been more explicit than that. Neither had Dan, really. He cursed a lot, and he grunted and moaned and breathed hard, but he wasn’t a talker. Maybe it stemmed from having to be quiet when we were teenagers and we used to do it in our parents’ houses. Back then we had to be silent and quick or risk discovery. Dan was still the master of quick, and he’d learned how to get me off pretty fast as well, so maybe the habit of being quiet had stayed with us too.

Not anymore, I decided. We were going to change it up. We needed something different, something to revitalize us. We were too young to be boring! I liked that we were first for each other and would be last for each other, but we didn’t have to be the same for each other all our lives, did we?

I want you to fuck me.

Just thinking the words made me feel sexier. I want you to fuck me. Without thinking about it, I slipped one hand between my legs and touched myself, imagining a warm body between my thighs, a hard chest brushing against my nipples, a low voice in my ear.

You want to get fucked?

Oh, shit. My eyes flew open. I knew that voice, and it wasn’t Dan’s. Heart racing, I quickly placed my hands flat on the mattress next to my hips and squeezed my legs together as if I’d been caught doing something wrong. I did not want Miles to fuck me. I couldn’t want that.

• • •

I must have fallen asleep, waking when I heard the front door to Dan’s condo shut. The candle was still burning, but it was much lower, and I picked up my phone to check the time. One twenty-seven? Where the hell had he been all this time?

His brawny shape filled the doorway. “Natalie? What are you doing here?”

“I was waiting for you.” I propped myself up on my elbows, squinting at him. “How come you’re so late?”

“I told you. We went out after playing.” He made a beeline for the bathroom, so I thought he was going to use it and come right back out, but a minute later I heard the shower running.

Confused, I sat all the way up. Why was he showering now? Hadn’t he cleaned up at the club like normal after playing tennis?

I blew out the candle, switched on the bedside lamp, and got out of bed. After pulling on my underwear, I knocked on the bathroom door. “Can I come in?”

“I’ll just be a minute.”

I crossed my arms over my bare chest, cold all of a sudden. “Didn’t you shower at the club?”

He didn’t answer right away. “No.”

I backed away from the door and went into his walk-in closet, pulling a clean t-shirt from a drawer. After slipping it over my head, I got back between the sheets and waited for Dan to finish up in the bathroom, trying to think about what he’d been wearing before jumping in the shower. Was it tennis clothes? I didn’t think so, which meant he must have put on clean clothes without showering, and then gone out sweaty. Granted, it was just pizza and beers with the guys, but it was weird to me that he wouldn’t have cleaned up first.

A few minutes later, he came out of the bathroom wearing a towel and went into his closet, coming out in his underwear. He set his alarm before climbing into bed and dropping his head on his pillow, eyes closed. “Can you turn off the light? I’m fucking exhausted.”

“Sure.” But I stared at him for a moment. His face was so familiar—the same dark brown hair, square jaw, and high forehead I’d been looking at for the last ten years. I knew his features as well as I knew my own. Why did he look different to me right now?

“The light please, Nat?” He sounded annoyed.

“In a minute.”

He opened his eyes. “What?”

“I came over here to surprise you.”