The Absolutely True Story of Us by Melanie Marchande

cringing a little. Is that really what I look like? "I've been thinking about it."
    "Thinking," he repeats. He's skeptical and I don't know why, but it bugs me.
    "I talked to a friend," I admit, finally, to get him off my back. He doesn't need to know who the "friend" is. "I realized maybe I've been unfair to myself."
    And unfair to you.
    I didn't want to think about it at the time, but all that stuff about turning off the lights during sex and shooting down ideas of sexy outfits - yeah, that was me. I didn't realize how I was probably chipping away at Dean's ego in little bits and pieces, every time I unknowingly demonstrated that I didn't really care how sexy he thought I was. My own insecurities mattered more.
    Nothing excuses what he did, but if I could go back and do it over? I'd be different. I would, in the immortal words of M, wear a damn bikini.
    It's too late now, of course. Sure, we had sex last night - a few times - but I'm not getting entangled with him again. Now that I know what kind of person he is, I'd be insane to let him get under my skin. But there's no harm in a little no-strings-attached fun.  
    I can picture Jack giving me a very disapproving look. I brush it away.
    In the end, I find myself in a fitting room with a couple "fatkinis" slung over my arm. That's what they call them on the fashion blogs, I think. The high-waisted numbers that still show a lot more skin than I'm comfortable with. I have a feeling this is going to end badly, but I try one on anyway.
    "Nope!" I say, out loud.
    "Everything okay in there?" my mom calls out.
    "Yep," I shout back, turning away from the mirror. "Never been better."
    ***
    Because my life has spun completely out of control, I text M from the fitting room of the next store my sisters drag me into.

    Just for the record, I tried a bikini. It was a disaster. 0/10, would not recommend.

    M: Let me be the judge of that.

    I didn't take a picture. Trust me. I looked like Shamu.

    M: That's not very attractive, you know.

    I'm aware.

    M: No. I mean the way you talk about yourself. If you act like you're sexy, everyone will believe it.

    I don't think it really works that way. I live in New York City. There are actual beautiful people here.

    M: I've been to New York, you know. I'm not a farmer.

    I guess I've never thought about where you live before.

    M: Don't get derailed, Lana.

    So are you near here?  

    M: I come there for business often enough. It's not too far.

    I don't know why that makes my heart leap in my chest. We're never going to meet. Ever.  

    Huh.

    M: Huh. Why the sudden interest?

    I've just always been curious.

    M: Really.

    Really.

    M: I don't believe you.

    Believe it. I'm not angling for anything.

    M: Do you know this hotel?

    The next message is a link to one of the nicer places downtown. I think I've probably gone past it a few times, although I've never stayed there. Never had any reason to.

    More or less.

    M: If you ever decide you want to see me, go there. Book a room. I know you can afford it. Text me your room number and I'll be there.

    I actually snort out loud. How ridiculous of a proposition is that? Does he think he's the mysterious billionaire from one of these books? Nobody acts like that in real life.

    Haha, okay.

    M: Did I say something funny?

    You really expect me to do that?

    M: Sweetheart, I know you will.

    You're insane.

    M: And you're being awfully disrespectful.

    What are you going to do, come over here and punish me?

    M: Won't be long until you're begging me for it. But no. I know you're not ready to meet me.  

    It's not a question of being ready, I'm not interested.

    M: Don't want to make this too real, hm?

    That's not why.

    M: Afraid someone will find out?

    No. I just don't want to. This is fun, but I have no interest in escalating.

    M: I beg to differ. Everything that's happened between us is pure escalation. It's only a matter of time.

    Well, you keep that hope alive.

    M: Have you ever been