I forget about Joe when Dom and I quiver in each other’s arms. When desire ripples through me, like the ocean, deep and vast and everywhere. When I’m suddenly hungry for things whose taste I fail to recall.

I forget about Joe, even when I’m desperate to remember.

Because what’s one night in an ocean of days in your life?

EIGHT

I get back to the apartment looking like I’ve just performed an epic walk of shame. My dress is askew, and my lips are raw and puffy. My hair is tangled in rough knots. The only thing that stopped me from going all the way with Dom was the sliver of common sense I had left.

When I flip the switch and turn on the light in the living room, I find Nora and Colt on the couch. Nora is straddling Colt and wearing nothing but his crimson MIT shirt, and I can see that his belt is unbuckled.

“Ahhh!” I toss my backpack in the air between us, like it’s an electric fence. “Get a room.”

Better yet, go to the one Nora is renting here.

I’m glad I didn’t eat much, because I’m pretty sure I accidentally got a glimpse of my roommate’s boyfriend’s penis. There was a pink, long thing between them while I processed everything that was happening.

“How was I supposed to know you were coming home?” Nora laughs lightly while I give her my back. By the sound of it, they’re both making themselves decent while I stare hard at the overhead clock in our kitchen.

“How was your date?” Colt asks.

“Awesome,” Nora answers for me. “Otherwise, she wouldn’t come back so late, and her lips wouldn’t look like two inflatable mattresses.”

They both cackle. I feel my cheeks warming up. Why am I blushing? They were having sex on my couch not even a minute ago. Okay, fine, our couch. But I think everyone can agree that once a couch doesn’t belong exclusively to a couple, it is not okay to consecrate it with bodily fluids.

“It was actually great.” And it was. Even if there’s a small part of me that’s sad to let go of my emotional crutches.

“That’s what I like to hear,” Colt says. I bet. He’s been asking Nora to move in with him for two years now. I know I’m in the way. He can’t move here—it’s a dumpster, and he is an aerospace engineer. He legitimately designs aircraft. He has a nice condo downtown, with a claw-foot bath and heated flooring, just ready for Nora to move into.

“Brings you a step closer to your goal, huh?” I grin.

“I’m rooting for Mr. Perfect,” Colt admits, laughing. “If he were a stock, I’d invest in the dude.”

I roll my eyes, kicking my boots off on my way to my room. Colt can be a little forward sometimes, but he means well, and it’s just our banter. When push comes to shove, he’s a great guy who’s always happy to help.