4. Birdie

Confession: I steal from the student condom jar.

We loaded the bags into the back of her truck, and I got in the passenger side. Although the sky was barely darkening, I'd already had too much wine to be driving, and I didn't feel like being on my own anyway.

I realized that when I found another place, it would be the first time I'd actually lived by myself. In college, I lived in the dorms. Then I found Mara as a roommate on a Craigslist ad while I got my master's. And then Dax and I moved in together. Not to mention the eighteen years I lived in close proximity to the underside of my parents' thumbs.

She rolled the windows down, letting in the fall air, and drove toward the beach. Her house was only a few blocks away, and we'd spent more than a few weekends laying out on beach towels with our Kindles.

"So what type of guy should we look for tonight?" she asked. "What are you into now that boring artist guy is out of the picture?"

I gave her a look. "Dax was not boring."

"He took you to a vegan restaurant for your birthday. You had wheatgrass shots."

I cringed, remembering the day. He wasn't even vegan, and neither was I. It was so pretentious. I much rather would have spent the day birdwatching or thrifting at a flea market.

"So you agree. I'm thinking you should try someone older. Maybe a silver fox?"

My chest constricted at the idea of being with someone new, but I reminded myself that Dax had done me a favor. Did I really want fifty more birthdays spent at vegan restaurants? Did I want to come in second to art for the rest of my life? Partner with someone who didn't care enough about me to follow through on his promise to marry me?

"You know," Mara said, mistaking my silence for hesitation, "older guys are often more knowledgeable. Could be just the thing to get you up to speed on what's new in the bedroom."

"How many new things can there be?" I asked, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

She shook her head. "You're in for a treat."

We soon reached her house, and I took in a water feature up front. "Is that new?" I asked.

She grinned. "Treated myself with the advance."

"That's amazing!" I said, trying to be the supportive friend I should have been. Mara dropped out of high school at sixteen, getting out of a truly crappy situation with her mom and an abusive stepdad. After years of working as a waitress and writing sexy stories for magazines for some extra cash, she self-published her first book online. And it took off—in a big way.

And here I was with my master's degree.

Irony sucked.

For me, not for Mara.

We got out of her truck and carried the bags to the garage, except for one I needed to bring by the school.

"Okay." Mara wiped her hands on her leggings. "Let's shower up and get dressed for your rebound."

I followed her into the house. "And how about you? Are we looking for Mr. Right?"

"You don't find Mr. Right at the club," she said. "You find Mr. Right Now, and that's ten times better."

I shook my head, going to her guest bathroom while she went to the master. It would take a special guy to settle Mara down. That much was for sure.

As I twisted the knob on the shower, hot water cascaded down. I stepped into the stream, wondering about Mr. Right Now and hoping my rebound would be good enough to clear my mind of Dax and maybe even land in a novel.

* * *

I adjusted the hem of my dress so my entire vagina wouldn't be on the seat of Mara's truck. "How did I wear this dress before?"

"It's hot on you!" she said, turning onto the highway that led toward Emerson Academy. Since it was on the way to the club, we were going to go ahead and drop off my box. "What are you worried about anyway?"

"First of all, my ass falling out of it. Second of all—"

She gave me a look. "It's not falling out. You'll be standing most of the night. Or lying down." She winked.

"You're taking this rebound thing pretty seriously," I said. "But there's a very good chance that no one will be remotely interested in all of this." I gestured at myself.

"And why is that?"

"I am pretty rusty," I reminded her. "Dax had about three moves, and they were mostly for his benefit."

"Ugh. Remind me why you dated him again?"

"He was so exciting," I said. "He showed me so many new spots in LA."

"Mhmm. Can we talk about the spot he couldn't find?"

I rolled my eyes. "Let's forget about him, okay? I don't want to think about him tonight."

"Happily. But speaking of dicks, I forgot to ask—do you have condoms in your purse?"

I blanched. "Shit, no." How had I forgotten to think about condoms? Half my job was to help make sure students didn't end up pregnant before graduation.

"I might have some extra. If not, we can stop by the store on the way."

"So sexy," I said. We reached the school and she whipped into an accessible parking spot close to the building. "Mara," I chided. "You can't park here."

She looked around the empty parking lot. "That's true. We're taking up all the spots for the people not at the football game."

I rolled my eyes and got out of the truck, thankful everyone would be too preoccupied with the game to see me going into the school. I shrugged on a massive cardigan I brought along and went up the steps to the front door. I had to hold the box against the door with my hip while I used my key to let me in, but finally I was inside.

The only lighting came from the dim emergency lights that stayed on all the time. Everything was silent, and it felt... peaceful. That is, until the heels I borrowed from Mara echoed on the tile floors and off the locker walls.

Thankfully, my office wasn't too far away. I jiggled the knob and got in. Ralphie chirped as I set the box down.

"Sorry, babe." I put my finger through the cage, and he nipped at it. "I came back a little early. But I'll see you tomorrow morning!"

He cooed, seeming to understand, and I turned to leave the office. But then my eyes landed on something atop my filing cabinet: the clear glass jar filled with condoms.

I was supposed to discreetly give them to any student I suspected of being sexually active. Well, I was someone in the school, and I was asking...

I bit my bottom lip and walked to the cabinet, taking down the jar. There were several brands inside, and I took a few brightly colored ones, then tucked them in my cardigan pocket.

As I walked down the hallway, my pocket felt hot. But hopefully not as hot as the night I was about to have.