Avoiding Intimacy by K. A. Linde

chocolate chip ice cream from her freezer to see if that helped. It hadn’t. She had just felt fat on top of everything else.
    No, she couldn’t think about last night —not about the pool, not about the bar, not about the club, not about leaving.
    She refused to think about his body soaking wet in nothing but swim shorts.
    Her mind wouldn’t even let her think about being at the bar with him afterward when he had bought all the right drinks and said all the right things. No way was she going to consider his charming personality, the way his hand found the small of her back when he leaned in to ask her a question, or those too smart hazel eyes that always focused on her face. If she wasn’t thinking about those things, she certainly wouldn’t go back to the feel of his body pressed tight against hers as they danced in the center of the nightclub.
    Nope, she wouldn’t think about any of those things.
    All she would let herself think about was that she had ended it. They’d had a nice time, and then she had ended it.
    Yep, that was the only important part.
    Adam was out with her tonight, and John had plans until later. Frederick was hanging out boyfriendless at some gay bar in Manhattan, and she was considering going to hang out with him later in the evening. If Alexa were in town, she would have already been with her.
    The woman behind the desk was dressed in a traditional Indian sari in deep purple and orange silk. Her long dark hair was pulled back off of her face, showing the bright red bindi at the center of her forehead. “How many?” the woman asked, smiling with eyes veiled by thick black lashes.
    “Two,” Chyna told her.
    Adam approached the podium and poked her in the side once more for payback. She turned and glared at him.
    He smiled brightly at the woman with that ever-present grin on his face. “We don’t need food though. Can we just go to the bar?”
    “Of course, sir,” she said demurely, directing them to follow her.
    They passed three large rooms with low tables and chairs topped with cushions that matched the host’s sari.
    Food was served in circular aluminum bowls in the center of the table, and the guests were scooping directly out of the communal pots or adding food to a separate plate. The whole place smelled sweet and fragrant like flowers mixed with honey. The host took a turn to her right and pulled back a deep crimson curtain.
    “Here you are,” she said, allowing them access to the bar area.
    They both thanked her as they passed through the curtain into a different world.
    The hookah lounge itself was made up of several adjoining rooms separated by sheer
    curtains.
    The
    perimeter
    had
    cushioned alcoves with curtains that closed around the area, allowing a bit more privacy. All over the room, pillows and chaises in deep burgundy, navy, purple, and orange were pressed together for couples to lounge on. Hookahs in various colors were sitting atop white tables. A faint fog already clouded the room, and Chyna realized the aroma she had smelled before was the mixture of all the various hookah flavors blending together.
    “Come on. Let’s head to the back,”
    Adam said, taking her hand and walking through the already crowded room.
    They found an empty alcove and took over the space. It was bigger than she had expected with room enough for five or six people rather than the two she had been anticipating. Adam deposited her there and then went in search of the bar. He returned a couple minutes later with her martini and a beer in hand.
    “I ordered our hookah, too. They should be bringing it over.”
    “What flavor did you get?” she asked.
    “Apple,” he said with a shrug. “The guy said it was popular. We can try something else if you want.”
    “No, apple is fine,” she said, reaching for her martini hungrily.
    Alcohol was such a good idea. It made her forget things, and tonight, she really wanted to forget things.
    A few minutes later, a waiter showed up with a bright