Sincerely, Carter(12)

1) I’m not attracted to him. AT ALL. I don’t get what all the hype is about, sorry.

2) I’m not interested in “fucking him.” AT ALL. I’ve had enough great sex to keep me satisfied, and when I’m not with someone, my vibrator serves me just fine with fantasies of celebrities. NOT HIM. #Truestory. And

3) He once saw me naked at a pool party when we were eighteen and begged me—fucking begged me, to put my clothes back on. ASAP. So, yeah. He’s not attracted to me either. Can you promise not to make any accusations about the two of us now?”

Of course, I was sure that scheduling a sit down with a potential girlfriend would lead to more issues instead of alleviating them, so I just went along for the train wrecks—hoping he would one day find someone who wasn’t a psycho.

“Hey, Ari?” Carter waved his hand in front of my face minutes later.

“What?”

“Do you plan on getting out of the car tonight? He opened my door. “Or have you decided that you’d rather handle your pussy with your fingers for the rest of the summer instead?”

I rolled my eyes and got out, following him inside of Margaritaville.

I ordered the weakest beer they had to offer and surveyed the room. “If this whole casual sex guy thing doesn’t work, do you think I’ll find my one hundred-percent guy before I go off to Cleveland?”

“I highly doubt it.” He smiled, leaning back against the wood. “You have three months until then, and you make guys wait for at least eight before telling them you’ve changed your mind.”

“I’m being serious.” I punched his shoulder. “It would be great to meet a nice, down to earth guy and feel like everything is perfect and right at once, you know? To have all of those right vibes and feelings upfront, so I wouldn’t even have to worry about how it’ll turn out in the long run.”

“You’re talking about insta-love?”

“I’m talking about love at first sight.”

“That shit doesn’t exist” he said. “Any relationship built solely on instant attraction is a recipe for failure. Trust me, I’m the prototype.”

“You’re the prototype for being a man-whore.” I sipped my beer. “It’s not the same thing.”

“If I was a man-whore, I wouldn’t have had six girlfriends over the past two years. Six, Ari.”

“Six girlfriends, five one night stands, four “There’s some girl in my bed and I don’t know her name” mornings, three “Holy fuck, that sex was terrible” nights, and one—”

“Partridge in a pear tree?”

“No. One ‘Please, Ari, come and get me.’” But that was a very close guess.”

“I didn’t know you were keeping count…”

“Only because you make it too damn easy.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He rolled his eyes. “Hey, look over there.” He pointed with his straw. “What about that guy? He looks like he’d be into a few nights with you.”

I spotted the guy he was talking about: He was dressed in a short sleeved white shirt and khakis that complemented his beige shoes.

“He’s cute…” I looked him over again. “I don’t think he’s my type, though.”

“He’s more than your type. He looks like he hasn’t fucked anyone in years.”

I laughed. “No, thanks. What about that guy?” I pointed to a guy dressed in all blue.

“I thought you hated sneaker-heads.”

My eyes roamed down to his shoes and I shook my head. After dating a sneaker-head, I knew those were the type of exclusive shoes that could only be worn by one.

“Oh, wait a minute…” Carter said, smiling. “Looks like you have an admirer. Look to your left.”

I slowly turned around and spotted a guy in a black shirt and jeans smiling at me. He tilted his head to the side, as if he was trying to figure out the relationship between me and Carter.

I immediately scooted away and the guy smiled, shooting me a short wave.

“Go talk to him,” Carter said.

“Shhh! Stop talking to me! He might think we’re together…”

“He won’t if you go talk to him, Ari. Jesus…”

I hesitated, still looking at the guy, and the next thing I felt was Carter pushing me out of my seat.

“Go.” He shooed me away. “It’s not like you’re making me look appealing to anyone either.”

I shook my head at him and walked toward the guy in the black shirt, blushing as I stepped closer. He looked ten times better up close.

“Hi…” He smiled a set of perfect pearly whites.