I tossed my napkin and him and stood. "You are incorrigible! Get the damn check, we need to head to our gate anyway or else we'll be involuntarily staying here another night."

CHAPTER 27

I woke up Monday morning in my old bed, looking up at my popcorn ceiling with the one suspicious water stain that our landlord insists is from an old patched spot. The alarm was rudely blaring, and I reached over and smacked it until it went off. Back to the real world. I yawned and rolled out of bed, rubbing my eyes.

I had gotten home at 11:40pm last night. I hadn't bothered unpacking; my bags were sitting in the middle of my room, and I stubbed my toe on one as I tried to get into the hall and to the toilet. One benefit of having slacker roommates was that I didn't have to fight anyone for the shower in the morning. I stood under the pathetically gentle spray and missed the body jets and rain head at Bellagio.

Life goes on, baby. I turned off the shower and stepped out, wrapping my body and head in a towel. Brad had dropped me off last night, giving me a quick kiss and helping me with my bags. I hadn't invited him in, and we paused on the front stoop.

"It's been fun." he said.

"It has. Thank you for the invitation."

"I'm glad you took me up on it."

"Ditto." I grinned at him and he pulled me into a strong hug, squashing me a little.

He started back to the car, and I rummaged in my bag for my keys. Putting them in the door and cracking it, I gave him one last wave and heard his car start in response. I opened the door to weed smoke and the smell of pizza. Home Sweet Home.

I scrolled through my closet, settling on a boring brown pantsuit and low heels. I didn't bother with contacts, just brushed my wet hair into a low bun and put on light makeup. Brad and I had agreed to stay away from each other, which should be easy for me, seeing that Broward had strict rules for me on that regard anyway. Now I would just actually follow them.

The week passed quickly and easily. Broward actually gave me a lunch break on Thursday, so I met with Becca and Olivia at Panera. Over chicken and rice soup I gave them most of the scoop on the weekend. I left out the shower sex and my girl-on-girl action, but included pretty much everything else. The girls, as expected, had strong opinions on everything. Olivia was adamant that I keep my distance from Brad, her opinion of him only slightly higher than that of a pedophile. Becca thought I should be his travel hoe, and wanted to know if there was room for her on the trips. I navigated through their endless questions and finally begged off, telling them I had to get back to work.

By Friday I was watching the clock, and when Broward finally banged on my door at 8:30pm, I was more than ready to leave. I shut down my computer and hurried after him. He held the elevator for me and we rode down together. As the elevator clicked and hummed, I leaned against the wall.

"Big plans for the weekend?" Broward asked.

"No. Sleep." I smiled at him. "You?"

"Kids got soccer games on Saturday, I'm thinking that Sunday I'll do some work around the house, the wife wants me to build a bookcase in our media room."

I nodded politely, Brad's opinion of Broward's life coming to me unbidden. Boring. Dull. I don't know that Broward saw it like that. A lot of people were perfectly happy with their lives being ordinary. Not everyone needed fast cars, excitement, and sex. Did I?

The elevator dinged and I nodded to Broward and walked out into the garage, headed to my Camry.

I spent the weekend in bed, with a giant roll of chocolate chip cookie dough and a glass of milk. I went old school, putting in the first season of Desperate Housewives and watching the drama underneath a big comfy blanket. Sunday I started getting a little bored, and decided on a bubble bath and a book. My bubble bath only made it 15 minutes, before Alex, roommate #2, starting banging on the door. I sighed and pulled the drain, watching the bubbles circle the drain and disappear. I heard my cell ring in my bedroom and I pulled my na**d body quickly up and out of the tub. I barely made it to my phone before it was sent to voicemail.

"Hello Becca."

"Hola chica! What'cha doing?"

"Something super exciting. Too exciting to go into now."

"Yeah right. This is you we are talking about." She giggled into the phone.

"Hello? Do I get NO credit for being super exciting and impulsive last weekend? I am a wild child, and don't you forget it."

"Riiiigggghhhhtt. So sorry, Miss Thang. Anyway, the new Tom Cruise movie is playing at 4pm, and I know how much you like older men…so what do you say?"

"It was ONE older man Becca. Don't brand me with this forever. And I say that I will forgo the super exciting thing that I was in the middle of, just so I can spend quality time with you. Is Olivia coming?"

She growled into the phone. "No. Says she has to STUDY. How lame is that?" I smiled into the phone.

"Super lame. Gosh, her sense of responsibility is absolutely ridiculous."

Becca completely missed my sarcasm. "I know, right?"

"Okay, you want to meet there, or are you picking me up?"

"I'll pick you up in twenty. We can shop a bit first, k?"

"Sounds good." I hung up, a smile on my first. For the first time in forever, I had money to burn. Time to go shopping.

For the first time all week, I took time in getting dressed. Becca was a tough critic and I wanted to look hot. When she blared the horn outside twenty minutes later, I was still pulling on heels and it took a minute for me to walk out. Becca had the top of her Mercedes convertible down, and Gwen Stefani blaring. Designer shades on, she looked like Malibu Barbie.

"Looking good, sistah," she said, pushing her glasses up and approving my skinny jeans, Jimmy Choos, and silk tank. I had put curl enhancer in my hair and had it down, hoping it would air-dry with some semblance of style. I opened the door and got in, reaching over to hug her.

"Got the goods?" she asked.

"You know it," I said, opening up my biggest purse and showing her the candy stash inside. I used to smuggle canned cokes and bags of ice, but Becca put the brakes on that, saying that was going too far. So now I stuck to just candy. Today I had packed Skittles, Peanut M&Ms, Sour Patch Kids, and Milk Duds. A mix of sour, sweet, and chocolate. I shut the door and she burned rubber, leaving skid marks in front of my mailbox. I laughed and turned up the radio, and we sang and danced all the way to the mall.

Hanging out with Becca is an experience. It's similar to being with a toddler, in that you have to watch her constantly or she will get into trouble. For Becca, the trouble is normally with M-E-N. She likes all of the wrong ones. Which, come to think of it, it yet another reason I should stay away from Brad, since Becca thinks he's great.

"I mean, it seems pretty stupid if you ask me," she lamented, flipping through dresses on a rack in Bloomingdales. "You and him had a great time in Vegas, you get along well, the sex.." she looked sideways at me, "is fantastic - why would you agree to never hang out again?"

I stopped my rack rifling and faced her. "I never said we had sex."

"Well I know you never SAID it, but puh-lease! You have sex countless times with two losers - sorry Jules but in retrospect you can admit it - losers - and never orgasmed. This guy makes you cum in the first four minutes that he gets you in bed! You're telling me you just said "thanks, but no thanks on seconds?" She shoved the dress hangers shut and glared at me. "I may be stupid when it comes to micro-biology or the Ancient History of Mayans but I know sex."

I bit the side of my cheek to keep from laughing. She pointed a finger at me, her face dead serious. "You tell me right now Julia Campbell or I will not tell you what part of your outfit looks hideously tacky."

"What!?!" I looked down at my…flawless… outfit in shock. She snapped her fingers at me and continued pointing, looking ridiculously somber considering she was wearing hot pink capris with matching fingernails.

"Okay, okay, but only so you stop pointing - Geez!" I huffed.

"So you admit it, that you, Julia Campbell, prude of all prudes, had *sex* (she whispered the word like it was a revered being) with that man?"

"Yes, I did! And it was wonderful, and hot, and sexual, and I had another orgasm. Happy?" I demanded.

She sank to her knees in dramatic fashion. "Ecstatically. Welcome to my world of slutdom. It is an amazing place to be."

I stepped over her knelt form and moved to the next rack. "Wait. What-"

"The leopard print belt," she muttered, getting to her feet and wiping her hands off. "Who pairs that with cork wedges?"

----

Three bags filled with amazing clothes later, we sat in a minuscule table in the food court, devouring a cookie cake slice and two Cokes.

"So seriously, Jules. Why stay away from each other if you both had fun?"

I toyed with a piece of icing that had broken off of the cookie crust. "I don't know, a few things really. One is my internship."

"Attorneys aren't allowed to date interns," she said nodding. "Seems like a logical rule."

"Right, but it's a little more complicated than that. Brad isn't just an attorney - he's a senior partner. And Broward , my boss, specifically forbade me to even speak to Brad, much less do all of the …other stuff…which we've done. So it's really important that I keep this a secret. Which so far I've done. If we keep seeing each other, the likelihood of it coming out grows. And the last thing I need blocking my acceptance to law school is a bad rec."

"Yeah but you could get around that. My dad could give you a recommendation."

"That's beside the point. CDB is one of the top firms in the city and it's on record that my internship is with them. I don't want to mar that opportunity."

"Okay, so that's one reason. But your internship is over in what - six weeks?"

"Yeah, maybe seven."

"Okay. So lay low and don't see each other until then."

"Yeah, but what’s the point? Yes we had fun - but there are plenty of guys out there that I can have fun with. I don't see the point in wasting my time with someone when "the one" could be out there waiting."

"Oh my god. You and your freaking "the one" theory. Was Dickhead 1 or Luke "the one"?

"Dickhead 1 has a name."

"Yeah well he didn't stick around long enough for me to find it out."

"You were in Paris."

"Are you really defending him?! Anyway, moving on - you wasted time with both of them to figure out if they were "the one" - why not do the same thing with Brad?"

"To start with, they were both interested in dating me. Brad isn't. I don't think he does girlfriends - or if he does, they have some type of agreement worked out where they are okay with him sleeping with other people. I don't need to tell you that that isn't something I am interested in."

"So you would have an issue with him f**king other people."

My mind alighted on his unaccounted for time with that stripper at the Club. "If we were dating…yes. Obviously I would not be okay with him cheating on me."

"It's not really cheating if everyone is okay with it happening."

I blew out a frustrated burst of air. "Then obviously YOU are the type of women he's been dating - women who are okay with him sticking his dick everywhere he wants to. Again, I am NOT. So no point in discussing THAT any further."

"Geez Jules - you don't have to get all bitchy on me. I'm just playing devil's advocate."

I took a big, bitchy bite out of the cookie and let my emotions simmer. Becca's big, mascaraed eyes looked away and she scratched her neck.

"And nothing is wrong with my f**king belt! Leopard and cork go fine together! The straps on these shoes are dark brown!” I glared at her through a mouthful of cookie.

She started giggling uncontrollable and clamped a hand over her mouth to try and cover the sound. Coke spurted from her nose and she waved a hand rapidly in front of her, trying to calm her giggles and find a napkin. I handed her one, my face softening, and then I was laughing too, seeing the coke dripping down her beautifully made-up bright red face.

---

That night, after the movie and popcorn and a quick bite at Zaxbys, I lay in my bed and stared at the ceiling. Through the thin wall I could hear Metallica or Death Grip or some other heavy metal band playing on Zach's stereo. The room was hot, and I flung off my comforter and I kicked my legs a bit to free the sheet. I tossed and turned but couldn't get to sleep. Finally, I plugged my iPhone into the stereo beside my bed. Turning up the volume just enough to drown out Death Cab, I put it on Katy Perry and set the sleep timer for 15 minutes. I selected "I Kissed a Girl" and laid back down, staring at the ceiling. As the words floated through the air, I remembered lobster claws, sequined bras, champagne, and the flow of desert wind through my hair. Finally, I fell asleep.

---

The next week and a half flew by. We had a business acquisition close, and preparing for it meant extra late nights and jam-packed days. The closing finally occurred on Wednesday at 2pm, and Broward gave our whole wing permission to leave at 5. I'd never been so excited about an eight-hour workday in my life. I was merrily stapling briefs together when Todd Appleton stuck his head in the door. "Can I come in?"

Feeling extra generous, I waved him in with a smile. "Of course! Todd. How's everything going?"

"Great. Really great. We heard in the East Wing that you guys were getting an early night off. Want to come out with us?"

"Where you guys going?"