Read Online How Long You Should Wait to Have Sex: a Novel by Monique Sorgen - Free Book Online Page B

Marty is exactly what would cure her insecurity.
    Thinking I could get her to give him a chance, I ask, “So was Marty as good in bed as you’d hoped he’d be?”
    “Who knows. I was so drunk I would’ve enjoyed having sex with a cucumber tied to a chair!”
    I laugh while trying to avoid conjuring the image of that in my head. Thankfully, our taxi driver still doesn’t appear to speak English.
    Then Lacey concedes, “Although I did watch the video playback, and it looked like it was probably the best sex I’ve ever had.”
    “You taped it?”
    “Always!--But secretely." This is a revelation that even I can’t justify about my dear, twisted friend.
    “That way," she goes on, "if a guy dumps me, I can refer to it when I’m trying to remember how stupid he looks in the throes of passion.” Again, if you take a second to stop being mad at her, you will realize that she has a good point.
    “What about you? What happened with that guy?”
    I practically explode with my story, “He was amazing, Lacey! So amazing that despite any stupid errand my boss is making me do, this day has already gone down in history as the best birthday of my life. John is perfect! He’s everything I hoped I’d find at my party and more.” Then, realizing there is one little thing I should probably inform her of sooner than later, I add, “And I hope you don’t mind, I told him he could call me later to join us wherever we are.” I already know she’s not gonna like this.
    She scrunches up her face, “Are you sure that’s what you want?”
    “I know it sort of intrudes on our night, and I wouldn’t normally invite a guy, but I figured since it’s my birthday, you wouldn’t mind.”
    “Sure, as long as you don’t think it’ll be too uncomfortable,” she says, a little more understandingly than I expected.
    “You mean for you?” I clarify.
    “No, for you,” she says, as if her reasons were obvious.
    “Why would it be uncomfortable for me? You’re my best friend, and he’s a great guy. I have no doubts that you guys will get along fine.”
    “I know, me too. That’s not what I meant. It’s just that—“ she stops short, and changes direction, “where did you guys go last night, anyway?”
    I don’t mind that she doesn’t explain whatever weird justification is making her think it would be uncomfortable for me to have John here, because I’m too excited to tell her more about my night.
    “Well first, he took me to his favorite place in the city—so I already know where to find him if he’s ever—“ I don’t get to finish my sentence because her text message chime interrupts me, and rather than ignoring it long enough to let me say, “—down in the dumps, I’ll know where to go find him to cheer him up,” Lacey takes out her phone and says:
    “Sorry, I’ve got to respond to this.”
    I try not to seem disappointed that I was interrupted and ignored after listening to her entire story about how she’s going to actively pass up an awesome guy because he’s too nice, or too complimentary of her, or too good in bed, or whatever her stupid reason is.
    “Is it Marty?” I ask, trying to seem casual about my own need for attention right now.
    “Um, no. It’s—“ Lacey trails off, distracted as she finishes her text. She doesn’t put away her phone.
    Nonetheless, I try to start in with my story again, “So anyway, John takes me to—“
    Lacey’s text chimes again, and she goes back to texting with this mystery person, and not listening to me, as we arrive at my office building, pay the taxi, and go inside. Fine, I’ll use this time while she’s ignoring me to think positive, happy thoughts about last night. I can enjoy my memories, even if she doesn’t care about them.
    As we enter the building, I ask, “Who is that?”
    “Oh, um, it’s work.” She stutters, unconvincingly.
    We get in the elevator and start to go up to the fourth floor.
    “Work?” I ask incredulously, “on a Saturday