Roger was a good guy and she’d been happy with the arrangement they had. They spent time together when he was in town, and lived their separate lives when they were apart. They liked and respected each other, and had great chemistry. Or so she’d thought until she met Seth. What she had with Roger was like a tame kiddy ride compared to the breakneck-speed roller coaster of desire that she shared with Seth.

And there had only been Roger for a very long time. Tara didn’t have a black book of out-of-town fuck boys like Seth implied. She was perfectly proficient at meeting her own needs when necessary. She just sometimes missed the human connection.

But she shouldn’t have to explain her past to Seth. Why should she have to tell him about the men she’d been with before him? Then she thought about how she would react if they ran into one of his ex-lovers, a gorgeous model. She would go mad with jealousy. Just imagining it made her stomach twist. And she would feel insecure. She would wonder if she was just one of the women in his long line of casual lovers.

Had that been it? Was Seth seeking reassurance that he meant more to her than a casual fling? Despite their agreement to keep their relationship a fun, simple fling, did he wish it was more than that? Just as she did?

It was too much to think about right now. She was angry and hurt, and too worked up to properly engage in “what if I were in his shoes” exercises. Tara let herself into her house and kicked off her shoes, letting them land wherever they fell. She didn’t know if anyone was home and she didn’t care. She headed straight for her room and fell facedown on top of her bed. Might as well be comfortable while she mulled over her fight with Seth. But even though it wasn’t yet noon, she fell into an exhausted, dreamless slumber.

There was an urgent buzzing sound coming from the purse she dropped on the floor. What the hell is that? As she slowly surfaced from the depth of sleep, she realized it was the text alert on her phone. A glance at the clock told her that she’d been out for more than an hour, and she knew who was texting her.

The buzzing had grown increasingly closer together. After taking a deep breath, she reached her hand into her purse and rummaged around till her fingers wrapped around her cell. She pulled it out and saw that she had twenty-seven text messages.

SETH: I’m a monumental asshole.

She wouldn’t go so far as monumental, but he had been an asshole. As his text messages continued, his insults at himself grew increasingly amusing.

SETH: I’m a piece of chewed gum stuck on the bottom of a second grader’s desk with black pock marks made by a freshly sharpened pencil.

Then the humor slowly leeched out of his texts.