by Lauren Rowe
“Did my brother sound upset when he said that stuff about me?”
“Not at all. He doesn’t think you’re a ganga, if that’s what you’re thinking. He actually sounded proud of you.”
I have no idea what a ganga is, but I think I can guess. “Proud of me?” I say.
“Well, not proud. Wrong word. But, like, he admires you. He said you don’t give a fuck what girls are ‘supposed’ to do and he thinks that’s bloody fantastic. He actually called you a ‘badass bitch.’ And I couldn’t agree more. You’re most definitely a badass bitch in my book.” When I smirk at him, he lays his palm on my naked hip and grins. “After being with my girlfriend for so long, and listening to her constantly worrying about what people thought of her and what she was ‘supposed’ to do, I’m finding you refreshing. Sexy as fuck, as a matter of fact. I like the way you go after what you want.” He strokes the curve of my hip, sending goose bumps across my flesh, even in the warm space. “I think you’re sexy, Kaylee,” he whispers. “Sexy and beautiful and fucking amazing. I’ve been watching you all night, trying to gather the courage to make a move. The last thing in the world I’m gonna do is judge you for inviting me into your tent, believe me.”
“Thank you.” I slide my palm onto Ben’s gorgeous face and kiss him. “Okay, Shy Boy. Let’s go again.” I smile wickedly. “Because this badass bitch can go all night.”
Two
Los Angeles, Present day
I settle into my car after having just finished a long day of work. I pull out my phone, intending to text my best friend, Tatiana, about our plan to grab dinner and drinks tonight. But I’m surprised to find I’ve got a text from an unknown number waiting for me.
Hi, Kaylee. Happy Friday. This is Ben Watson. I got your number from Carter. Hope that’s okay. You might not remember me. Surely you made a bigger impression on me than I made on you when we met seven years ago. I’m the shy Aussie you invited to your tent during a camping trip in Coconino. And happily, I’m not nearly as shy anymore. I’ve recently moved to LA for a new job. I don’t know anyone in town other than my new co-workers, and they’re not interested in socialising outside of work, apparently. Would you be interested in meeting for a drink? I’d love to pick your brain about living in LA. Get your recs on your favourite bars, hiking spots, etc. I’m available tonight, if you’re free. If not, then name your night. I’m free as a bird these days. I can make anything work. Hope to hear from you. xx
I read and reread the message twice and then breathlessly place a call to my best friend.
“Ciao, bella,” Tatiana says when she picks up.
“Dude,” I blurt. “There shall be no dinner and drinks with you tonight. I’ve unexpectedly got a date with a hot Aussie.”
“Who?”
“Remember when I went camping with Carter and a bunch of his friends from NAU and wound up devirginizing a hot Australian in my sleeping bag?”
“Get out!”
“He just texted me. He said he moved to LA for a job and he knows no one and he wants to meet me for drinks tonight so he can ‘pick my brain’ about living here.”
“Ha! More like he wants to meet for drinks so he can fuck your body tonight.”
“God willing.”
“Oh my God. Read me his entire text. I want to hear his exact words.”
I read Tatiana Ben’s entire text.
“He thinks you might not remember him?” Tatiana says incredulously.
“I know, right? How many Aussies does he think I’ve devirginized?”
“On camping trips in Coconino, no less.”
We both laugh.
“And it’s not like it was a wham, bam, thank you, ma’am that night, either,” I say. “After I devirginized him, we had sex two more times over the course of, like, six hours. And in between actual sex, we made out. Talked. Made out again. Laughed a ton. It was an incredible night. The kind of night you think about again and again over the years because it was just so damned magical and nothing else has ever quite compared. And he thinks I’m such a slut I wouldn’t even remember a night like that?”
“Aw, cut him some slack, babe. He was just reserving himself a way to save face in case you totally brushed him off. It’s been seven years, after all. And as I recall, you shut him down when he asked for your phone number the next morning.”
I laugh. “True.”
“I’m sure he’s been pining for you all these years and doesn’t want to look like a fool if you’re creeped out he texted after all this time.”
“Oh, there’s no way he’s been pining for me all this time, Tati. Trust me. He was absolutely gorgeous. After I broke the seal for him, so to speak, I’m sure he went home and had a field day with the ladies. And why would I be creeped out he texted me? His message was adorable.”
“Actually, you should be complimented he said you might not remember him. I’m sure with every other girl he’s screwed since you popped his cherry, he’s felt like he held all the power. Like he made that girl’s day, month, year. With you, he felt like he was the lucky one. That’s got to be a hard memory to shake.”
“Which is precisely why I refused to give him my phone number the next morning. I knew he was going back to Australia and we’d never see each other again. So I wanted to remain this perfect, mythical creature in his eyes forever and ever. Better that than have pointless FaceTime sex with him a couple times and have to witness our mutual infatuation slowly petering out.”
“You’re the one who got away, babe. I’m sure every other girl but you has turned into a cling-on after he bangs them. But not Kaylee. The girl who slipped him a note, banged him in her tent, and then said buh-bye like he was just another piece of meat. If I were a guy, I’d have a seven-year hard-on for you, too.”
I giggle. “He hasn’t had a seven-year hard-on for me, Tati. Trust me, if you’d seen him, you wouldn’t think that for a minute. That man can get any girl he wants.”
“He’s had a seven-year hard-on for you. I’d bet anything.”
“Whatever. If that’s true, then hopefully, it’ll make the sex tonight even hotter.”
“Sex on the first date? So does that mean no chance of a second date with this one? Sex on the first date always means no second date with you.”
“Yeah, sex is all I’ve got to offer right now. I’m still not completely detoxed from Zack.” I shudder. “Controlling and clingy boys looking for a girlfriend need not apply right now. I’m not interested.”
“Have you replied to Ben’s text yet?”
“No. I called you first. Wanted to strategize about what I should say.”
“Well, whatever you do, ask him for a current photo. You know, so you’ll be sure to recognize him at the bar tonight, seeing as how it’s been so damned long. And then send me that photo right away or I’ll cut you.”
“Will do. Okay. I’m gonna text him now.”
“Keep me posted.”
We hang up and I tap out a text to Ben, smiling from ear to ear as I do.
Hi, Ben! Great to hear from you! Congrats on your new job and move to LA! Hey, sorry to ask, but will you do me a favor and shoot me a recent selfie? I’ve devirginized so many Aussies in my pup tent during camping trips with my brother and his friends in Coconino, I’m not positive I’m remembering the right hot Aussie. Thanks!
Three little jiggling dots immediately appear under my message. I wait, holding my breath, an anticipatory smile on my lips, and finally, Ben’s response appears on my screen.
Here you go. I’m in the middle of a workout at the gym, hence the reason I’m sweaty and shirtless. But I gotta figure seeing me like this is probably the best way to jog your memories of me. x
“Holy mother of God,” I whisper as my eyes take in the photo Ben sent me. The shot shows the full length of his body reflected in a gym mirror. There are dumbbells scattered around his feet. Exercise equipment in the background. As promised, he’s shirtless and sweaty in the photo. He’s wearing a backward baseball cap and a p
air of black workout shorts. And his body is absolutely glorious. It’s sculpted from head to toe and covered in far more ink than I recall from seven years ago. In short, he’s smoking hot.
I send the photo to Tatiana and, two seconds later, my phone rings.
“Tati.”
“Oh my fucking God!” she shrieks.
“He’s stone-cold gorgeous, right?” I say.
“Dude, he’s stone-cold ‘holy fuck and sweet baby Jesus’ gorgeous!” she replies. “Those abs. That ink. Those arms. That smile. And those eyes. Holy bajeebabeebus, Kaylee. Based on the story you told me at the time, I think I was picturing him as an eighteen-year-old. But this ain’t no boy-man. Holy hell. This right here is a grown-ass man and then some.”
I sigh. “He’s definitely grown up right. Good lord.”
“Good lord. You still thinking he’s just a one and done?”
I pause . . . just long enough to telegraph my answer to my bestie, who knows me so well.
“Good. That boy right there ain’t no ‘catch and release’ program. That boy’s a keeper if I’ve ever seen one.”
“A keeper, we’ll see. A man I’d like to chain to my bed for the next month? Definitely.”
Tatiana laughs.
“Okay, baby, I’ve got to stop drooling long enough to reply to the man’s text. I’ve left him hanging long enough.”
Tatiana laughs. “You’re so cruel. You know he’s been staring at his phone, waiting for your reaction to his photo for a solid five minutes.”
“A little insecurity is good for a guy like him. I’m sure girls throw themselves at him all day, every day.”
“No doubt.”
I sigh. “I don’t know what I did in a past life to deserve this manna from heaven, but I’ll take it.”
Tatiana giggles. “Have fun, love. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
We hang up and I swipe into my texts again, and much to my glee, I’ve got a new one waiting for me from Ben.
Soooo did my photo help refresh your memory?
I decide to keep him waiting for few minutes longer, just to prolong his anticipation. I hop on to Instagram to kill some time. Do some online banking. Check out a celebrity website I follow. Return a couple texts. And finally, deign to return his text.
Hey, sorry about the delay. Got distracted with something. No, I’m sorry to report, your photo doesn’t ring a bell. You could be any number of Aussies I’ve devirginized during camping trips in Coconino seven years ago. There was this ONE particular Aussie from seven years ago you KIND of remind me of. That Aussie and I stayed up all night together, having amazing sex three times, making out, talking, laughing, gazing longingly into each other’s eyes. It was a magical night. A night I’ve never forgotten and probably never will. But you couldn’t possibly be THAT guy. He was hot, yes. But not nearly as hot as you. That Aussie was a boy-man, but you’re all MAN. Plus, that Aussie was super shy so I can’t imagine he would have had the balls to text me and ask me to drinks in the first place. So, no, I can’t really say your photo is ringing any bells. So sorry.
I press Send, a smirk on my face, and wait with bated breath for Ben’s reply. I don’t have to wait long. Indeed, Ben replies instantly—because, apparently, the utterly delicious Ben Watson goes straight after what he wants without a moment’s delay, unlike the shy boy I met seven years ago.
Forget that wanker from seven years ago, baby. Trust me, I’ve got waaaaaaaay more skills than that pathetic excuse for a boy-man had. Meet me for drinks tonight and, with a little luck, at some point in the near future, you’ll give me the chance to show you exactly what I mean by that.
Oh, for the love of fuck, this is getting good. I tap out a reply, my heart racing.
The Misfit in Santa Monica. 7:00.
I’ll be there. How about you send me a recent photo? Not fair you know what I look like nowadays and I have no idea about you.
I roll my eyes to myself. He honestly expects me to believe he asked me to drinks without the faintest idea of what I look like now?
I’m surprised you haven’t seen a recent photo of me on my brother’s Instagram or something? In fact, I find that awfully hard to believe, Ben.
Busted!
You saw one of the yoga shots Carter posted, didn’t you? From when we were on vacation and I made my family do yoga with me overlooking the beach?
There’s more than one yoga shot? How did I miss that?
Pretty sure there are several.
Shit! Well, I know what I’ll be doing moments from now: scouring Carter’s IG for more photos of you.
LOL. Which photo did you see?
One of you and Carter holding beers. Another one where you were doing a handstand on a yoga mat. And I didn’t just SEE that yoga photo. I bloody perved at it so flaming long my eyes nearly popped out of my sockets.
LOL. I had a similar reaction when I saw a certain gym photo of a hot Aussie I used to know.
Thrilled to know the perving is mutual. Fuck me dead, that yoga shot was a jaw-dropper.
Yes, the perving is definitely mutual, Ben. See you at seven, Shy Boy.
Not shy anymore.
Clearly. Damn.
See you tonight, Yoga Girl. Can’t wait. xx
Same. xo
He sends me a smiley face emoji and I send him a blowing-kiss one in return.
With a huge smile on my face, I swipe into my contacts and place a call.
“Santa Monica Wax Salon,” a female voice says. “How may I help you?”
“Hi there. I’ve got a bit of a waxing emergency. I’m praying you can squeeze me in today for a full Brazilian.”
“Today? Oh, no, I’m sorry. We’re booked solid. We’ve got several openings tomorrow, however. How does eleven sound?”
“Tomorrow won’t work, unfortunately. It’s got to be today. I wouldn’t normally ask for an accommodation, but like I said, it’s a waxing emergency. I just got a text from this hot Australian I met on a camping trip in college seven years ago. I was twenty. He was eighteen and just this big, adorable puppy kind of guy. I invited him to my tent and wound up devirginizing him.”
“Oh.”
“We spent the entire night together in my sleeping bag and it was the best night ever. And then he went back to Australia. But now he’s apparently moved to LA for a new job and he’s texted me out of the blue, seven years later, asking me to meet him tonight for drinks. I asked him to send me a current photo—you know, just kind of pretending I didn’t remember him, just to give him a hard time because sometimes I’m a bitch like that—and the shot he sent me blew my mind. Trust me, he’s no longer an adorable puppy. He’s all man. He was shirtless and sweaty in the shot and literally the hottest male specimen I’ve ever seen. And I’m a spin and yoga instructor, mind you, so I’ve seen a lot of hot gym bodies in my lifetime. And not only is he hot, he assured me he’s got ‘waaaaaaay more skills’ than he had seven years ago when I popped his cherry. So, you know, obviously, I’m gonna sleep with him tonight.”
“If you don’t, then I will.”
We both giggle.
“Unfortunately, it’s been a couple months since I waxed. I had a bad breakup. So, I’ve got to get my jungle under control right freaking now.”
“Well, damn, girl. If this isn’t a waxing emergency, then I don’t know what is. I tell you what, honey. If you come right now and bring that shirtless photo of the Aussie with you, and if you promise to come back to the salon in a few days to take me to coffee and tell me the entire story of how things went tonight with him, then, okay, I’ll figure out a way to squeeze you in today.”
I squeal. “You’re a godsend! Thank you so much.”
“You’re very welcome. I’ll consider it karma points. Truly, I’ll go to bed with a smile on my face tonight, thinking about what you’re doing tonight.”
“You’re seriously my new best friend. I’m going to call my lifelong bestie right now and tell her she’s out and you’re in.”
/> The woman laughs. “What’s your name?”
“Kaylee Rae. And I’m already driving toward the salon. I’ll be there in exactly twelve minutes.”
“Fabulous. We’ll see you soon.”
Three
I walk into the bar and survey the place. Ben. He’s sitting at a tall table in the corner, impossible to miss. Even if he’d been a complete stranger to me, my gaze would have been drawn straight to his deliciousness like a magnet to steel.
I begin walking through the crowded bar toward him, and as I approach, Ben’s chocolate eyes land on me and light up. He waves and smiles, causing both of my ovaries to explode simultaneously, and I wave back and try not to melt onto the floor.
I reach the table and Ben stands, his muscular arms outstretched.
“Hi,” I manage to say, melting into his hard chest as he wraps his arms around me.
“Kaylee,” he replies into my hair. “You look gorgeous.”
Oh, that accent. “You look gorgeous, too,” I say into his broad shoulder, and he chuckles.
“Thanks.”
I pull out of his embrace, my heart racing, and lock eyes with him . . . and physically swoon. “It’s great to see you,” I chirp, my sunny tone an overcompensation for the shiver of desire running up my spine.
I take a seat and Ben does the same. We’re both smiling from ear to ear. My heart is racing.
“I hope you didn’t mind me getting your number from Carter,” Ben says. “When I got to LA and realized my co-workers didn’t give two shits about—”
“Good evening.” It’s a waitress, suddenly standing at our table. “Are you two ready to place drink orders or do you need a minute?”
We quickly place drink orders and, the moment the waitress walks away, lean toward each other, the energy between us palpable.
“What were you saying?” I ask.
“Fuck if I know,” he says with a crooked smile. “Probably talking gibberish, thanks to nerves.”
“You’re nervous?”
