We reached for each other as if we weren’t new lovers still self-conscious the morning after the first few times we’d shared a bed, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. I didn’t worry about how my naked body looked in the bright light of day or fear I’d outstayed my welcome in his room. Mutual morning breath didn’t stop us, although it might explain why kissing lasted only a minute before he pulled back. With my eyes shut and only half-awake, I heard the nightstand drawer open and shut, followed by the rip of a condom wrapper. Then I felt the weight of his body over mine once again.

“Is this cool?” he asked.

I confirmed my consent with all the efficiency I could muster in my half-dream state. And then he was inside me. He gave and I took, over and over and over again. For how long, I had no idea. It was the phoenix of fucks, a magic candle that relit itself each time we thought we were done for. A wave in the ocean that tumbled and turned but refused to crash to the shore. Maybe being only partially conscious gave us both more patience and stamina. Whatever it was, I never wanted it to stop.

Eventually, the candle burned out and the wave broke. We were panting and our skin gleamed with sweat, but we were no longer conjoined. It was a quiet peaceful moment, and I basked in complete satiation. All was right with the world.

And then, like a blow to the face, I remembered Derek’s reaction to my story. Just like that, my Zen state of consciousness flew out the window, replaced with panic. The last thirty-six hours with Finn had been a blissful diversion, but we couldn’t stay tucked inside this hotel room avoiding the outside world forever. What was I going to write about? I slid away from Finn and curled into the fetal position.

“Adi?” Finn patted my back. “Are you all right?”

I pressed my face into the sheet and said a muffled “Not really.”

“Is it me? Did I hurt you?” His voice was heavy with concern.

“No!” He was the one thing I’d done right. I flipped over to face him. “It’s definitely not you.” I braced myself to say it out loud. “My editor hated the story.”

Finn’s mouth dropped open. “Really? Why?”

“It wasn’t a story. It lacked an emotional component. It was mean. Just your basic suckage.” I sat up and toyed with the zipper of the pillowcase. Ziiip. Ziiip. Ziiip.

“Sorry, Adi.” He caressed my cheek. “What now?”