Something tells me I shouldn't do this. But since deciding not to overthink too much, I told myself to FUCK IT.

Fuck all the inhibitions. Fuck the moral barriers I built for myself. Fuck the people around me telling me what I should become, what I should do, and how I should react, especially after my big, bad divorce. I knew people were sympathetic to my face, but I could only imagine their inner joy. For one second, they felt like they had a better life.

But I want them to see me smiling.

Actually, fuck it. I don't care if they see me or not. I want to be happy. I want to have fun. This divorce set me free, and if this isn't a sign, what else could be? This is my chance for a second life to do what I please. Maybe people will judge me, expecting me to break down, but it's my life, and I plan on living it in high spirits and not crying about the ones who didn't choose me.

But, being a hopeless romantic, I have stayed sexless for over a year, waiting to move on and get into a new relationship. I even went on a few dates I found on Bumble. Half of them were creepy, and most of them just wanted sex. I didn't feel like meeting people who wouldn't listen to what I was saying.

"You should literally stop overthinking right now, babe!" Beth said, banging the table loud enough to startle the couple in the next booth.

"Sorry folks!" She waved at them and turned to me. "You're wasting your time and your beautiful youth, girl."

"I know, Beth. I can't help it. I just haven't found anyone really that interesting yet."

"You've been saying this for months, darling. And I tried to set you up, and you didn't even turn up. I know you're a hopeless romantic. I was one, too. But let's face it. Life sucks, and you don't really get those romantic love stories anymore. A few of them do, but most of us don't. So, stop being an idiot and waiting for your Romeo. He doesn't exist."

"I don't want any Romeo. Isn't there one decent guy who is interested in me? Not just in a sexual way."

"Maybe, maybe not. But why waste time until then? Go out. Have a few flings. You've been with only one man your whole life. You need to get a taste of what's out there."

"I don't know, Beth. It seems like a bad idea."

"Just trust me on this once. I'm taking you out somewhere this Friday. I won't tell you where. Just wear something black and sexy."

"Okay! Um..."

"And don't ask questions," she said, shutting me off.

"Mila! I don't trust that Beth girl. She's kinda crazy," Sophie turned to face me as she washed the dishes and I helped dry them.

"It was just once, and she was drunk!"

"What makes you think she won't do it again? You have to be careful, Mila. You barely know her."

"Stop it, Soph! Stop treating me like a child anymore. At least, let me make my own mistakes for once. I don't want to listen to you or Mom in the back of my head all the time."

"Fine. Do whatever you want. We're only trying to protect you." She paused and took a breath. "Just be careful. Okay?"

I nodded and continued wiping the dishes and putting them on the rack.

After spending so many years in Chicago, I decided I needed a break. I quit my job as a high school teacher and moved to Charleston with my sister. While I love her for being my safe space, I don't think I'm okay with her being overprotective about me.

After all, I feel free for the first time in many years. Maybe staying in her home isn't a good idea. But, I have no other choice. Maybe if I finish this book I'm halfway through and get it to my publisher and make decent money, I could get a place of my own.

But the problem was, I wasn't inspired anymore. It wasn't about writer's block, but I don't believe in what I wrote anymore. I can't write about love, destiny, romance, or sex when I don't have any in life right now. I've been waiting endlessly for that one spark to come to life. For that one person to change everything I believe, turn my world around, and make me believe all the things I once believed, but to my vain, those men only exist in books these days. Or they are already taken.

My odds of finding someone who could get those butterflies flying again were growing thinner every day. Every night, I open my laptop screen and watch the cursor blink endlessly until I give up and go to bed.

I hardly even touch myself these days. I even bought a small vibrator three weeks ago, and it does give me some temporary joy, but it's not the same as sex for me. I need a man to whisper dirty in my ear, tell me or rather show me what he feels for me, caress me gently and send tingles across my body I've never felt before, and tell me he loves me right before we climax together. That is what I want, and I know that is something I am not getting any time soon.

That night, I opened my laptop again and stared at it blankly just like every other night, sipping wine and listening to the radio. I decided that I needed to write to my publisher that I needed more time to finish the book. Martin was rather supportive. He had his own little publishing house, which he inherited from his father. We studied middle school together, so it was easy for me to get him to publish my first book.

Honestly, it didn't sell that well. But he says that's how first books usually are and that I need to keep writing. He says he sees potential in me, but I hardly believe it myself anymore. I was better off being a high school English teacher.

I signed in to my other email I keep only for official purposes, and before I could click on compose, I noticed an email from a Kyle Grant with the subject line "Love from your biggest fan."

Well! That was a first. I've never had fan mail before. Before I could even open the mail, I called up Beth.

"I told you, lady! You've got it in you... Now read it," she screamed from the other side.

"Alright, alright. Here I go." I clicked the mail and read it out loud.

"Hi, Mila. I'm Kyle from Jacksonville, Florida. I found your book 'The Powerplay' very, very interesting. I may not be a writer myself, but I do know good writing. I'm in love with your writing, especially the character Violet. What a well-rounded character you have written, the way you describe her, her desires, and her pain, tells me so much about you. If you have written so wonderfully, I can only imagine all the things happening in your beautiful, beautiful mind."

"Woah, woah. Stop it right there. What is going on? Is this supposed to be fan mail?"

"It's creepy, isn't it?"

"Very creepy but very, very interesting," she says, laughing. "Read along."

"I don't know what Violet looks like, but you... my god, you look so much like what I imagined Violet to be. Your husband may have been the most lucky and unlucky man in this world, Mila. But today, I think I'm the lucky man. I may not have a shot with you, but I want you to know everything I feel about you."

I couldn't read anymore. "How does he know about me or my husband?"

"You've got a stalker, honey!"

"Umm, no. This is most likely a prank. Umm, wait. Is this you, Beth?"

"Hell no! I mean, it's something I would likely do. But this isn't me."

"Huh! Who could it be? This book isn't even that famous."

"Who cares? Just read the rest of it."

"Yeah, here it goes... If you were Violet and I were Hugo and this was the scene in Chapter 4, stuck in the midnight in that dimly lit office room on the 10th floor, alone with nobody else around. I wouldn't be controlling myself. I would have taken you right there, lifting up your skirt with one hand and pushing you onto the table. I would spread your legs..."

"No, I can't do this," I closed the laptop. "This is crazy, Beth."

"It's just an email. It's harmless."

"What do you mean harmless? He knows everything about me?"

"Everything? You mean about your husband? It's not really so difficult to connect the dots. Maybe you've got some tagged photos of you and your husband that he saw, but no pictures on the feed?"

"Are people really that smart?"

"Darling! You have no idea what people are capable of, especially when they are obsessed about something."

"There! You said it, what if that guy is obsessed with me? What if he is a psycho or a serial killer?"

"What if he is hot? A hot serial killer like Ted Bundy?"

"Are you serious?"

"No, I'm not. It's probably just some creepy internet troll guy who doesn't have a life outside his room. He's probably just a loner who reads your book. That's it."

"Of course, that's the kind of people who even read my books."

"I didn't mean that. I am just saying you don't have to worry about it. Delete that email and go to sleep."

"You're right. I am just going to ignore this."

"Good girl. Bye, then, Miles. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," I said, putting the phone down.

I opened the laptop again to delete the email before hitting the bed. It was just past midnight, but I was wide awake after reading that. I had only read half the email and my heartbeat had already risen. It was too hot and too real, but I wanted to read more. I was curious what he had to say in the end. I began reading again.

"I would spread your legs and kiss your inner thighs. I can only imagine how you smell. I would cup your breasts one after the other and worship you, your body, and man... your lips. I can only tell you what it does to me as I write this email. Even the thought of you drives me insane, and one day, when I have you under me whispering my name into my ears, I know I'll drive you insane too. That day will come, Mila. Until then, I will read your words a hundred more times.

With Love & Lots of Lust,

Kyle"

This doesn't sound like a loner. He's way too confident to be a loner. Phew, why do I care? I need to ignore this and sleep, I told myself, but I kept staring at the screen. It took a few seconds to realize that I actually fell for this. I shook myself and closed my inbox. I could not delete the email.

I went to bed that night, and it was the wettest I've been in a long time.