“Eh. Two to three. One if I happen to see the same girl more than once.” Zack shrugged, as if that were a perfectly acceptable number. Not that I have a problem with it… but Jesus… I can’t even imagine getting laid with that many different people that often. It wasn’t merely a gender difference, either. Rachel knew that she wasn’t as conventionally attractive for her gender as Zack was. Women probably flocked to him. God knew Rachel’s eye had been instantly drawn to him the moment he walked into Opal’s. He could get almost any woman he wants. Except her, apparently. Was that why he kept hanging around her? Playing the long game in the hopes of winning her over? But why?
“Two a month since…?”
“Lost my virginity at sixteen. Look at me, an average statistic at one thing.”
“That’s… way over a hundred women.”
“It’s gotta be lower than that… I said average… wait… sorry, can’t math when I’m intoxicated.”
Rachel couldn’t math intoxicated or sober. Even so, she was able to figure that out pretty quickly. Two a month in a year was twenty-four. Twenty-four in a decade was… way over a hundred. Two hundred? Was it two hundred?
She had heard of those who slept with so many people in their lifetimes, but this was ridiculous. The only thing she judged him for was acting so nonchalant about it. How many of those women could he not remember? Compared to how many couldn’t forget him? I know I would never be able to forget him. Even if they had met up and hooked up once, Zack was the kind of unforgettable guy who burned himself into a woman’s long-term memory. Meanwhile, he could barely remember the last woman he slept with.
“What about you, Rachel Taylor?”
She spat out the last of her drink. “Me? How many people?”
“On average. Duh.”
“Um… well, in a year… two or three?”
“Aw, come on, really? That’s it?”
She blushed. Was she pale enough to pass it off as alcohol-induced? “And that’s only in the past couple of years, mostly. I didn’t lose my virginity until I was twenty-two.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really.” She was woozy from three drinks, her hard limit. Zack was probably going to have another one, but it was water for her for the rest of the night. Maybe a Coke if she felt frisky later. Rachel didn’t drink often, but when she did, she made it count. He makes me want to drink more, honestly. She didn’t know if that was a result of how he made her feel or what competitive nature she had. If a man drank four drinks, shouldn’t she be able to as well? “Not for a lack of trying, though.”
“That makes it even more unbelievable.” Another handful of pretzels came out of the bowl. Too bad half of them fell onto the front of Zack’s flannel shirt. “A good looking woman like you? Should’ve been swimming in it in college.”
“Unfortunately, I didn’t have the level of charm that you do. I still don’t.”
“Bah.” Zack waved his hand as if that was nothing but bullshit. “You don’t need too much of anything to get laid regularly. A good mix of charm, good looks, and confidence is definitely an edge over the competition, of course, but we all have those to some extent.”
“You think so?”
“I’m looking at a pretty and charming woman right now!” Zack slammed his fist onto the table. “All you need is some confidence! And hey…” He pointed a finger in her direction. “You’ve turned me down more than once. It means I’m fallible. And that you must have super high tastes, like damn.”
Rachel had to give him that. “Can I be honest with you?” They could be honest with drinks in their systems, right?
“Shoot.”
She sucked in one of those confident breaths she needed. “I’ve taken a vow of celibacy until the end of August.”
Zack stared at her as if he thought the alcohol played tricks on him. “Why… would you do that? Sex is fucking awesome. I should know. I apparently have had a lot of it.”
God, how was she going to explain this? “I need a break. I kinda spiraled after being triggered by a recent trauma.” Shit! She had said too much! I don’t even say that much to Parvati half the time… I really should not have had a third little drink.
“Trauma? Triggered? I feel like I’m back in my therapist’s office.”
“I had a really bad experience in college. With an ex who wasn’t really an ex.” Rachel couldn’t bear to look at him while she explained. “Long story short, he was the very first guy I was with and he dumped me during sex.”
Zack dropped the handful of pretzels he had grabbed.
“Yeah. It fucked me up. I wasn’t okay for a long time. Didn’t even try having sex again until a couple of years ago.” Five years of forced celibacy. Forced because her brain refused to let her go there with anyone, including those she was already attracted to. Got a couple offers during those years, too. Even in Japan, when she taught there for one of those years. “I finally got the nerve to do it again a couple of years ago. I wanted to prove to myself that I could sleep with a guy and have it go okay. I picked some random dude on an app. We met up and had sex in a hotel. It was… well, it was good, you know? I felt really good afterward. Decided to do it again with someone else. I kinda… spiraled after that.”
“I would hardly say that two or three guys a year is spiraling, Rachel.”
“You don’t understand.” Rachel started sipping her water and eating more pretzels. Would that make the alcohol leave her system faster? Because she was really regretting the second drink, let alone the third. “What I felt wasn’t healthy. Or I should say that I wasn’t going about it in a healthy way. It was a thrill every time. A chance to prove that I wasn’t fucked up or undesirable. I shouldn’t be having sex with people for those reasons. I should be doing it purely because it feels good or the right moment to do it. There were people I had sex with I wouldn’t have otherwise. Lowered standards from desperation, you know?”
Zack was silent for a few moments. Rachel worried that he was falling asleep on her.
“I guess I can relate. A little.”
“Really?”
He nodded, solemn. “Sometimes I think I’m having sex purely because I’m bored and don’t know what else to do. That’s usually the worst sex. I don’t necessarily regret any of the women I’ve been with, but… I know that if I lived my life over again, I’d probably forego some of it. Okay, a lot of it.”
Rachel contemplated that response. “Who was the last woman you truly loved being with?”
Zack didn’t hesitate before answering. “Sadie. My ex-girlfriend.”
“Oh. I see.” An ex-girlfriend would certainly hold more weight than a nameless fling. “How long ago was that?”
“College.”
They both fell silent. He’s my age, isn’t he? So college was also… damn, that’s like me still being hung up on my ex-boyfriend. Wasn’t she, though? College had fucked them both up in the sex and romance department. It had also fucked Rachel over in the financial department, though, and she doubted Zack felt that same kind of sting.
“Come on.” Zack slammed his empty glass down. “I’m not here to feel bad for myself. I’m here to party!”
Rachel sat back in her seat. Around them, more people arrived and ordered enough drinks to set the bar up for the rest of the year. This sure is a popular place. Rachel held her hand to her head. Turning her neck around so quickly was making her woozy. “Me too,” she said through the sudden nausea. I came here to take a load off, you know?”
Zack nodded. “I’m gonna get another beer. And then we’re going to get you a boyfriend.” He got out of his seat and went to the bar to get that beer.
“Wait, what?”
But Zack had disappeared into the crowd, and Rachel was left to wonder what the fuck he was talking about.
***
He was 100% serious when he said he intended to find Rachel a boyfriend that night. Even better if he could get her laid and officially off his own radar.
These were the kind of slapdash decisions Zack Feldman made when he was under the influence Oh, he wasn’t drunk, per se, but he definitely should not have been allowed to make decisions on behalf of other people when he had more than two drinks in his system.
At three, he was liable to say fuck it and throw all caution to the wind. Or, in this case, into the bar full of young men and women partying after work and because they could. It was Tuesday night, after all. Anyone in a trendy downtown bar, either alone or in a group, didn’t have much to account for Wednesday morning.
“Rachel Taylor,” he said with an authoritative announcer’s voice the moment he sat down again. “We are totally going to do it.”
She sat up with a start. “Excuse me? I don’t recall…”
“We’re going to get hookups tonight. You and me both. With, uh,” he struggled to find his words the moment a pair of young women in black tube dresses walked by, “separate people, obviously.”
“I…!”