♫ I know your type, I spent too many nights
Black mascara dripping from my eyes
So I tell myself girl, don't get, girl, don't get too close ♪
(Vera Blue—All the pretty girls)

"I... well... shit." Coralie regained her balance and was happy to be seated, otherwise she'd have fallen on her face.

It wasn't unlike Chester to hit her with information that floored her, but this was different. He'd seen her perform and seen her sneak out to yell at Ryan?

If he noticed, then who else did? Is Michael already suspicious and I don't even know it?

"Hey, it's okay." Chester reached across the table and patted her hand. The contact of his rough skin on hers woke shivers that wrapped around her fingers and crawled up to her shoulders. "Who am I to judge? I don't do monogamy, most days. The only time I tried, I got my heart broken." His finger-pads pressed onto her hand, and a jolt of some impossible to define sensation shot into Coralie's core. "But you, double-teaming? Damn, that's impressive. Hot, even. Nice, Cora. Nice."

Gaining approval from something so shameful bothered Coralie. But coming from Chester, she had to admit it was unsurprising. He'd always preferred to be unattached, uncommitted, to have the option to roam about as he pleased and sleep with whomever he wanted to. But he knew Coralie—that she valued truth and fidelity and loyalty, and that such a behavior was way out of her comfort zone.

So why was he congratulating her? Why would he encourage her situation when it made her feel disgusting?

"It's... it's not hot, Chester." She gulped, and her gaze dropped to her cup. "It's confusing, and crippling, and I fucking hate it. My heart says one thing, my," she lowered her voice and cringed, "my vagina says another, and my brain can't make sense of any of it. I'm so, so lost and about ready to tell both dudes to fuck off so I can be celibate again."

"Celibate? You?" He huffed. "What a waste. No way." Angling forward, he squeezed her hand. "Tell me about them. Tell me everything, babe. We haven't seen each other for so long, so I need to know more, so I can help you." Despite the dryness of his skin, his touch infused a sense of warmth into her. A sense of trust, of ease; he wouldn't judge her, he wouldn't blame her, and he wouldn't care that she was a sinful piece of shit.

As if no time had passed, as if they'd never paused their friendship, she confided in him. She explained how she'd met Michael, how she'd worked for him, and they'd lost touch for a few years until he happened to pop up at The Swirled Lady. How he'd recognized her, asked for her number, and used it. She described him to Chester—even showed him a few pictures—and detailed how sweet, caring, and thoughtful he was. That he had that soulmate appeal; that he gave off that vibe that he was serious, dedicated, and the kind of guy you'd want to keep around forever. Chester found him endearing... but then she mentioned the other man, and his interest grew tenfold as she divulged his name.

"Ryan?" Chester squinted and tilted his head, the wheels in his mind working hard to process the information. "Ryan. Why does that name, said in that voice, sound so familiar?"

"What voice?" Coralie sipped on her second cup of coffee, that she regretted ordering after her legs started jittering under the table. "What do you mean?"

"That voice." Chester jutted his chin at her. "That innocent, cutesy voice that hides something darker beneath it. You got like that back in the day, when you were... horny. Interesting. Ryan." He puckered his lips, bunched them side to side, then straightened up as his eyes widened. "Whoa, wait a minute. RyRy? That Ryan? The dude who lives in England, right?"

"How the..." She shook her head, unsure why she was surprised by his memory anymore. "You remember him? Did I talk about him?"

"Did you ever!" Chester joined his hands and rested them under his chin. Masculine as he was, he sometimes let his feminine side show; the stereotypical one that lived for drama and gossip and tales of forbidden romances. "You went to high school with him, or whatever the equivalent of high school is over there. You were dating other people, but there was totally a vibe between you, and you never addressed it. And after you moved, you flirted online and sent nudes to each other and shit—"

"—not nudes." She sneered. "Tasteful lingerie shoot pictures."

"Whatever." He guzzled down half his java and set the cup down. "Wasn't he married? Oooh, Cora..." He chewed on his lip and fanned himself. "Did you guys have an affair? Did he cheat on his wife with you? Oof, this is getting hotter and hotter."

"It's not hot!" She smacked his hand, hesitating to dig her nails into it to force him to be more serious. But he'd like it too much; he once thrived on scratches and bite marks because they turned him on. She shivered. "It's fucked up. I'm fucked up." Blowing out her cheeks, she slouched in her seat. "But... yes, he cheated on her with me. Several times. That night you saw us in San Francisco... that was the first time we had sex."

"Hmm, and was it good?" Chester reminded her of a hairdresser in a salon packed with rumor-spreading moms, or a nail technician gossiping over glue and acrylics. "Was it everything you thought it would be?"

"Stop it. I was the other woman," she used air-quotes, "and it was horrifying. I kept telling myself to quit it, quit him, but he'd video call me daily, then he flew me out to Paris, he spoiled me... and it was so hard to say no. Yes, the sex was incredible, too. And then..." She glanced at a coffee stain on the table. "Then I admitted that I loved him, and he flipped out. He tried to apologize, but I wouldn't listen, and we ended things. A few months later... his work relocated him here, of all places. We bumped into each other outside," she pointed at the coffee-shop door, "and he asked to meet up for drinks. I, like the idiot I am, accepted, and thought I had myself under control, but... he drew me into another fling with him. And this time... I am the adulterer. He..." she sighed, "he and his wife are apparently divorcing."

"Oh, fuck." Chester moved his mug aside and gripped both Coralie's hands in his. "And here you were, falling for Michael, working on this long-distance relationship... and Ryan pops up again. That body," he sucked his lips between his teeth, "is he still as gorgeous as those pictures you showed me?"

"Uh..." Coralie's cheeks heated. She had showed Chester Ryan's Instagram many moons ago, it was coming back to her now. And instead of being jealous or envious, Chester had drooled over the snapshots of Ryan's bare chest. "More. He's all grown up and... well..."

Chester fanned himself again, using a drink menu. "He's got a big dick, doesn't he?"

"Chester!" She waved at him to shut up.

"He does." Chester grabbed his drink and drained it. "All right, so your dilemma is choosing between them, yeah?"

"Yeah." She deflated into the booth cushions and ignored her stomach as gurgled and did back-flips. "Ryan is the one that got away, the one I've always wanted to be with... but Michael is the ideal boyfriend, the perfect man, and he's impossible to break up with. I can't even imagine it. And dumping him over the phone? Rude. Unkind. I can't do it."

Pulling out his wallet, Chester fished for a few bills and threw them onto the table. "Cora, girl..." He shoved her hand off when she tried to give the money back to him. "This is the kind of discussion we need to have over something stronger than coffee. Booze, baby. We need to get you drunk, and that's how I'll get to the bottom of your real feelings." He stood up, and as Coralie mimicked him, he plucked her hand and kissed her knuckles, in perfect gentlemanly fashion. "Call me, and we'll go out soon, okay? I'm sure you need a male perspective on all this; I love Delilah, but she's biased and has her prejudices."

Coralie had told him they were still roommates, and though Chester respected Delilah, he hadn't always cared for her. They were competitors, most days, as they had the same taste in men and women.

"You're right." Coralie thought about hugging him, but the idea of holding him close evoked eerie sensations in her; the last time she'd hugged him, he'd disappeared on her.

"I'm happy we finally reconnected." Their gazes linked for a few seconds, but when a rush of red ravaged over Chester's cheeks—unusual, as nothing ever intimidated him—he pulled away. "I'd hate for our friendship to... die again. Especially now that we're in the same city."

She watched him walk out—that delightful, round butt of his rolling with a sly sway of his hips—then tumbled into her spot. "Fuck," she said to herself, contemplating another mug of caffeine to drag her out of her miserable reverie.

So many memories in so little time; she couldn't keep up. Chester always left a trail of confusion in his wake, and the passing years hadn't shifted that in the slightest. Why hadn't he approached her sooner? Why had he let her wander past him for weeks without signaling his presence? She wondered—and worried—what master plan he was brewing, and began typing up song lyrics on her phone to get her sentiments out.

She paused when someone stopped before her table, their shadow sliding over the wooden surface. Coralie held in a groan as she looked up, bracing to tell whoever they were that she'd be vacating the spot soon, but would love her space in the meantime.

"Gimme a minute—"

She stilled at the sight; at the person towering there, pupils enlarged, arms crossed. The familiar man that she'd just been talking about, appearing to her as if by magic.

His ocean eyes switched to a stormy navy, and his upper lip curled. "Cora?"

Her saliva clogged in her throat as she gawked at him, concentrating on his arm tattoo to not drown in his glare. "Ryan? What are you... doing here?"

He gestured at the spot Chester had vacated, and Coralie nodded. "Grabbing a few muffins for breakfast tomorrow, because I won't have time to cook." He sat, but didn't settle into the seat. "But what are you doing here? Don't you work tonight?"

Unsure how he had any means to access her calendar, Coralie gasped as she gaped at her phone. It was six-thirty? "Fuck. I got so caught up in..." she motioned at the device as she fumbled for the first excuse that breezed through her mind, "song lyrics. Shit." She chugged the remnants of her coffee. "I won't make it, and I don't have time to go home and change." She nearly ripped her hair out and screamed, right there in the coffee-shop, and planned to blame it on Chester and his re-immersion into her life.

Him and his distraction of getting me to talk about my love issues.

"Calm down." Ryan stood, and motioned for her to do the same. As she did, he tucked his arm under hers. "I got you." He eyed her suspiciously as she grabbed her purse, but he tugged her over to the register, to stand in line behind a few patrons. "Let me pick up my order, and I'll drive you to your place, and then to work, okay?"

"Uh..." She'd told Ryan she needed space, yet he'd found himself there right when she needed him. What did that mean? "Okay..." She inhaled, exhaled, and allowed a weak smile to warp over her mouth. "Thank you. I appreciate you."

He smiled back, but something strange lurked in the twitchiness of his lips and the slight flicker of disbelief in his gaze. Had he seen her with Chester, and was waiting for her to confess? Had he been lurking, spying on her, unable to trust her?

But what was there to confess? She and Chester were friends, nothing more. She had nothing to explain to Ryan, and no need to justify herself. Chester and her were catching up, engaging in a harmless discussion that they might be continuing sometime soon over drinks. And going out for drinks was nothing that concerned Ryan; not now, and not even if she and him were officially dating.

Ryan had no reason to be dubious... and she had no reason to seek a deeper meaning to her out-of-the-blue reunion with Chester.

Right?

♥♥♥