Mister Romance Amelia Simone (english books to improve english txt) 📖

wedgie. Heterosexual sexcapades are dangerous. A woman would know not to go there.”

I bobbed my head. “I know, right? I couldn’t decide if it was ego, like ‘these panties will not defeat me’ or what was going through his head. Was he afraid I’d think he was weak if he failed?”

“I’m assuming you weren’t anticipating sex that night?” Vicki asked.

“Nope,” I replied succinctly.

“So, the undies were ...”

“Extremely functional and well-made. Ready for the zombie apocalypse and not intended for seduction. Which was maybe me misreading the signals, but still. Does he have no concept of a woman’s relationship with her underwear?” I asked morosely.

Gina gave me a knowing nod. “Exactly. I have a pair for every occasion. Period panties? Check. Slimming undergarments for under fancy outfits? Check. Daily underwear for work that are comfortable on a long shift? Check. Seduction panties?” She gave her wife a mischievous look. “Double check.”

“Pardon me for being practical,” Vicki broke in, “but I don’t understand romance that destroys clothing. If a woman wears something special, don’t you think a conversation is warranted before it’s destroyed altogether? We ladies have to plan for these things.”

“So, in the name of science, have you ever had a panty ripping episode, either as the ripper or rippee, and did you pull it—them—off?”

Vicki was usually pretty private, but a few drinks and Gina would tell me everything. I thought Gina would jump in, but Vicki was in the mood to share.

“Oh, yes. But only once. Rending lingerie is one of those romantic moves that’s better in fiction than reality. It wasn’t wedgie territory, thank God, but it still took way more hand strength than I anticipated.” She gave Gina a fond smile. “Sorry, dear. Before your time. Back when I was a wild and wanton college co-ed.”

It was Gina’s turn to smile mischievously. “Noted. Not that anyone asked, but I have not had any panty-rippers. And honestly, after your reviews, I’m grateful?” she asked hesitantly.

Vicki and I both nodded solemnly. “Yes. You now know you’re missing nothing. Unless they’re straight up rip-aways or have side ties, it’s not a move I’d encourage. Do not recommend. Zero stars,” I added.

Vicki turned to me. “So, what’s the verdict on Chase?”

“I don’t know. The panty-ripping was a turn-off. More because he didn’t listen to me than because he tried something adventurous. I was not in a head space last night to pick up romantically where we left off after my ‘conversation’ with Jennifer. Chase sent me a sweet apology last night, but I haven’t responded yet. If you have one bad experience with a person, do you call it quits?” I asked.

Saying the words aloud helped me answer my own question. No. I wasn’t ready to give up on Chase. If thinking about him had me shifting in my seat, there was still something there worth exploring.

Vicki stroked her chin. Gina, who usually had a ready answer for everything, even if was blatantly wrong, was silent. I’d once asked her the average temperature on Mars, and she confidently responded 2,010 degrees Fahrenheit. It wasn’t until I googled it that I realized how wildly she guessed and how wrong she was. Mars may be red, but it’s cold, not hot.

“Well, up until the disastrous panty fail, how was it? And other than last night, has he generally been a good listener?” Gina asked.

I flipped back through my memories of my time with Chase. “Yes, I think so.”

Vicki nodded. “Then I say, give him another shot.”

Gina said, “Have you realized the bright spot in all of this yet?”

My expression was blank. Nothing felt bright about this situation.

“You did it! And the crowd goes wild!”

Gina’s smug grin prepared me for her next words. “I think you should thank your life coach.”

“Umm?”

My fake life coach was proud of my failures? My relationship with Chase didn’t feel like something to cheer. Yet.

“Tamra, you hit all of your goals for the year, and it’s what, only a few weeks since your birthday? You did it. Wasn’t your third goal to take a romantic risk? I think getting frisky at your brother’s wedding definitely qualifies. My work here is done.”

She wiped her hands and sat back with a grin. I laughed as realization washed over me. Gina was right. Traumatic ending aside, I had met my birthday goals. And then some.

I’d built an online friendship with Virginia Rothman. It hadn’t turned out like I hoped, but that action had led me to Chase. Finishing the pole dance class series proved I wasn’t a quitter, and maybe not so boring as I’d always believed. I’d taken a risk in inviting Chase to the wedding, and that was before the kitchen debauchery. That bold moment for sure deserved extra credit. Meeting my goals was something to feel good about amidst the shit-sandwich of the last twenty-four hours. Maybe my life hadn’t changed dramatically with each accomplishment, but I’d pushed myself and tasted success. Each bite tempted me to indulge further. Shedding old misconceptions and patterns left me feeling lighter. Now I was dreaming bigger. More willing to risk and share myself with someone like Chase because I recognized I had more to share.

“Thank you, Gina. Your support has meant a lot.”

“I wasn’t too pushy?” she asked with a grin.

“Nope. Just the right amount. You push it real good,” I said on a laugh.

That night as I ate a sad combination of deli salads and called it dinner, I thought about how much fun Chase and I had cooking together. I missed him.

He hadn’t texted me again since his apology, and I didn’t know if I should be glad that he was respecting boundaries, or sad that I didn’t mean enough to keep trying. Maybe I wasn’t the only quitter. I bit my lip. That wasn’t me. Not anymore.

Tamra: The wedding had its ups and downs, but I appreciate you going with me. 

There. Nice, neutral, not giving much away, but still appreciative of the role he played in ensuring I had backup for