sleep with in their twenties?”
“Way too many,” Kristen said. “Enough that you don’t want to count anymore, because it’s just depressing.”
“Exactly!” Ally pounced. “And I’ve slept with one. I’d say I’ve made one mistake, except that I think spending the better part of a decade in a relationship that isn’t going anywhere is a mistake too. But never mind. Do you want to know how many men I’ve slept with?”
“Well . . .” Kristen said doubtfully. “Do you want to tell me?”
“Five,” Ally said with disgust. “My high school boyfriend. Two guys I dated in college. Brian. And now Mr. Wrong. My only one-night stand, too. Which hardly counts as a one-night stand, does it? Because I didn’t even know it was going to be one night.”
“That’s how they usually are, though,” Kristen explained. “Guys don’t say, ‘Let’s have sex and then I’ll never call you again, all right?’ They say, ‘Oh, baby, you’re so beautiful. I think I’m in love.’”
“They lie, you mean?”
“Oh, yeah,” Kristen assured her. “They lie.”
“Why do they do that, though?” Ally asked wonderingly. “Don’t they feel guilty?”
“I don’t know,” Kristen admitted. “If they do, they seem to be able to live with themselves. But if anyone ever says, ‘I’m not ready for a serious relationship right now,’ just so you know? That doesn’t mean, ‘I haven’t met the right woman yet, but maybe you’re the one who can change my mind.’ It’s man-speak for ‘This is a one-night stand.’ That’s a guy’s version of being honest. And they wait to say it until you’re right about to do it, when you’re totally into it. That’s when you get up, put on your clothes, and leave, unless you want a one-night stand. I learned that one the hard way.”
“All right, then,” Ally decided, swiping the last of the popcorn. She was going to have to rethink her image of Kristen as naïve. Kristen might be the Last of the True Romantics, but she was a whole lot smarter about this stuff than Ally was, it was clear. “So now I’ve learned what every other woman in Dating World already knew. OK, it took me two times around, one close-but-no-cigar with Nate, and one cigar-but-who-cares with Devon. And I got a valuable life lesson, right? I didn’t have unprotected sex, I’m not pregnant, and I don’t have an STD. And I’m a whole lot smarter than I was a week ago. It’s all good. Yay, me.”
“Yay, you,” Kristen agreed with a smile. “And they were both idiots. Because you’re beautiful, and you’re awesome.”
Photo Opportunity
Ally took her renewed good mood into work the next morning. And had it put to the test immediately, when Mac called the four staff members on duty over for a quick meeting.
“Got something on I need to tell you all about,” he said smugly. “The Hurricanes backs are going to be coming in for a preseason team-building event next Friday. I’m going to need everybody to be available. Don’t be planning anything for that day, because you’re going to be working.”
“What are hurricane backs when they’re at home?” Lachlan, an Irish kid who’d started at the gym only a few days earlier, asked.
“The rugby squad,” Mac said impatiently. “Just the backs, not the whole team.”
“The Wellington rugby team,” Ally muttered near Lachlan’s ear. “Forwards and backs. Different positions.” Funny how Mac assumed that even his overseas staff would know something about rugby, that it was on everyone else’s radar even during the offseason, just because it was so important here. No wonder Nate was so full of himself.
“Does this have to do with the Heat promotion?” she asked Mac. “How did it happen? Who set it up?”
“What?” Mac glared. “You think you’re the only one who can talk to somebody? I set it up, and I’m telling you about it.”
“How did they hear about us, though?” she persisted.
“That doesn’t matter.”
“Way too many,” Kristen said. “Enough that you don’t want to count anymore, because it’s just depressing.”
“Exactly!” Ally pounced. “And I’ve slept with one. I’d say I’ve made one mistake, except that I think spending the better part of a decade in a relationship that isn’t going anywhere is a mistake too. But never mind. Do you want to know how many men I’ve slept with?”
“Well . . .” Kristen said doubtfully. “Do you want to tell me?”
“Five,” Ally said with disgust. “My high school boyfriend. Two guys I dated in college. Brian. And now Mr. Wrong. My only one-night stand, too. Which hardly counts as a one-night stand, does it? Because I didn’t even know it was going to be one night.”
“That’s how they usually are, though,” Kristen explained. “Guys don’t say, ‘Let’s have sex and then I’ll never call you again, all right?’ They say, ‘Oh, baby, you’re so beautiful. I think I’m in love.’”
“They lie, you mean?”
“Oh, yeah,” Kristen assured her. “They lie.”
“Why do they do that, though?” Ally asked wonderingly. “Don’t they feel guilty?”
“I don’t know,” Kristen admitted. “If they do, they seem to be able to live with themselves. But if anyone ever says, ‘I’m not ready for a serious relationship right now,’ just so you know? That doesn’t mean, ‘I haven’t met the right woman yet, but maybe you’re the one who can change my mind.’ It’s man-speak for ‘This is a one-night stand.’ That’s a guy’s version of being honest. And they wait to say it until you’re right about to do it, when you’re totally into it. That’s when you get up, put on your clothes, and leave, unless you want a one-night stand. I learned that one the hard way.”
“All right, then,” Ally decided, swiping the last of the popcorn. She was going to have to rethink her image of Kristen as naïve. Kristen might be the Last of the True Romantics, but she was a whole lot smarter about this stuff than Ally was, it was clear. “So now I’ve learned what every other woman in Dating World already knew. OK, it took me two times around, one close-but-no-cigar with Nate, and one cigar-but-who-cares with Devon. And I got a valuable life lesson, right? I didn’t have unprotected sex, I’m not pregnant, and I don’t have an STD. And I’m a whole lot smarter than I was a week ago. It’s all good. Yay, me.”
“Yay, you,” Kristen agreed with a smile. “And they were both idiots. Because you’re beautiful, and you’re awesome.”
Photo Opportunity
Ally took her renewed good mood into work the next morning. And had it put to the test immediately, when Mac called the four staff members on duty over for a quick meeting.
“Got something on I need to tell you all about,” he said smugly. “The Hurricanes backs are going to be coming in for a preseason team-building event next Friday. I’m going to need everybody to be available. Don’t be planning anything for that day, because you’re going to be working.”
“What are hurricane backs when they’re at home?” Lachlan, an Irish kid who’d started at the gym only a few days earlier, asked.
“The rugby squad,” Mac said impatiently. “Just the backs, not the whole team.”
“The Wellington rugby team,” Ally muttered near Lachlan’s ear. “Forwards and backs. Different positions.” Funny how Mac assumed that even his overseas staff would know something about rugby, that it was on everyone else’s radar even during the offseason, just because it was so important here. No wonder Nate was so full of himself.
“Does this have to do with the Heat promotion?” she asked Mac. “How did it happen? Who set it up?”
“What?” Mac glared. “You think you’re the only one who can talk to somebody? I set it up, and I’m telling you about it.”
“How did they hear about us, though?” she persisted.
“That doesn’t matter.”
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