Chapter 2
SOPH
Currently playing: Habits (Stay High) by Tove Lo
Aphone rings next to my head, but it isn’t my ringtone. I groan and turn on my side, a warm body behind me stopping my movement. Opening my eyes, I look around without moving too much. I don’t want to make eye contact with the stranger in bed with me.
“Pass the phone, babe,” he asks in a hushed tone.
I’m not his babe. Strike one.
I hand him the phone without saying a word before covering my naked upper body with the sheets.
“You don’t have to cover up; it’s way too late for that.” He smirks and answers the phone. “Hi, mom.” Strike two.
While my latest one-night stand talks with his mother, I grab my clothes and bag from the floor and tiptoe to the ensuite bathroom.
I should have known that I’m not in my room—the smell is all wrong.
It smells like a men’s cheap body spray mixed with alcohol, sex, and weed. It’s such a typical frat house smell.
If my memory serves me right, Haisley and I decided to flirt with the younger men who invited us to a house party last night. Not any house party, a frat party. So, it’s easy to assume that the guy currently talking to his mother in his bed is a college student. Yikes. Strike three, and you’re out!
Not sure how to feel about waking up next to another random guy since my breakup three months ago, I wonder how I can leave without making it evident that I don’t need a repeat performance of last night.
Sometimes one night is the only thing I want and need.
Especially when I just slept with a guy who is almost ten years my junior.
Well, seven, but who’s counting? Usually, I enjoy spending time with guys my age or older.
My ex was ten years older than me. And look how that turned out.
My ex is another man on my long list of failed relationships.
Starting from my first boyfriend at age fifteen to my last, all six have been either cheaters, liars, or manchilds.
It seems like I have a type—men who are unable or unwilling to commit.
Add tattoos, and I’m a goner. Case in point, here I am, in the bathroom of a college student with a few tattoos, who definitely didn’t give me husband material vibes last night.
I pull up Haisley’s name in my favorites while looking for toothpaste. After seeing my hungover self on the mirror, I’m unsure if that will help, but it can’t hurt.
“How are you this lovely morning, chica?”
My best friend’s cheery voice makes me groan. “I’m still at the frat house from last night and don’t know what to do.”
Haisley titters. “Let me guess; you need an escape plan?”
“Yes, girl, like yesterday! He’s currently talking on the phone with his mother, and I’m in the bathroom thinking about how I can leave without making him feel bad. He had three strikes in a matter of a minute.”
My friend hums. “I mean, it was only a one-night stand, right? You should be able to leave without him being too mad about it. There’s no need to avoid him any longer. Just grow some balls and own it, Soph.”
“But I want to be a nice person. I can’t just ditch him.”
“Why not? You could always tell him that you’ve your cousin’s bar mitzvah today and need to leave to get ready.”
I laugh for the first time during our phone call. “Like he would believe that my cousin is Jewish.”
“And why wouldn’t he?”
“Um, Haisley, I’m half Barbadian and half Irish. There’s nothing Jewish about me.”
“But he doesn’t know that. And cousins don’t always share their religion.
Like my parents and I are atheists, but my aunt and her family are Catholic,” she nearly shouts and tells me to get it done.
I end our phone call with mumbled thanks, then splash my face with chilly water and look into the mirror again.
I look like I had fun based on my bed hair, but I don’t know if that’s what last night was.
There have been various men in my life lately.
I’ve had my share of dating app matches, blind dates, ghosting, and one-night stands.
It can be a hit or a miss, making it old fast. But I haven’t found the person I want to settle down with.
I thought my ex was it for six months. It turns out he wasn’t.
Vincent enjoyed getting his dick sucked behind my back while telling me we were exclusive.
And that’s the reason why I’m here with a guy who started college last year, if he wasn’t lying.
If this isn’t a neon sign from the universe, I don’t know what is.
It’s time for me to make a change. Operation Sophia Kennedy Becomes a Nun starts from this moment forward.
I’m kidding. I’m not going to give up dick just yet.
My phone vibrates in my hand, and when I check it, there’s a message from Haisley.
Haisley: Breakfast at Fred’s Diner at 11 if you get out of there in time. Good luck, comrade
I step out of the bathroom and grab my jeans from the floor where I dropped them earlier. My one night mistake has his back turned to me, loudly making holiday plans with his family, so he doesn’t notice me sneaking out.
I quietly open the door to the hallway and look both ways before moving to the stairs that I spot on my right. It’s like I’m on a secret mission as I sneak down the stairs. When I hear voices coming from behind me, I decide to make a run for the front door.
I almost knock over a guy standing on the porch as I hastily escape the house.
“Hey, watch it, lady!”
“Sorry, but I’m in a hurry,” I tell him over my shoulder and speed walk behind the corner. Catching my breath, I order a taxi and hope never to see that place again.
The smell of grease and coffee hits my nostrils when I open the door to Fred’s Diner near my parents’ place in Brooklyn an hour later—yes, I’m almost twenty-seven and live with my parents.
And I don’t care what anyone thinks, but there are several reasons behind it—one being that my parents need financial support as much as I need a place to live in the city.
Haisley waves to catch my attention. She looks like she walked out of a fashion show—her outfit is a mix of dark blue and neon green.
It sounds horrendous, but let me tell you one thing about Haisley Lavigne; she makes the craziest color combinations work.
There are no limits to her fashion sense.
And it’s fantastic. While at it, imagine a tall, slim woman with long hair that looks like gold in the sun.
Add beautiful light green eyes and a kickass attitude. That’s my best friend.
It’s funny how different we look. I’m close to the average height of an American woman at five foot five, which I often try to compensate for by wearing heels.
We both have toned bodies, but our body shapes are different.
Haisley once said that at least I have boobs, unlike her.
I would like to correct that statement by stating that her small breasts are as beautiful as my bigger rack.
My short afro is my latest beauty decision—I got tired of my long curly hair and wanted it to be easier to control.
Thanks to my Caribbean heritage on my mother’s side, my hair is curlier than a Labradoodle’s.
Right now, it’s a mess like the rest of me.
I didn’t have time to fix it after the quick shower I had at my place before coming here.
Sitting down across from Haisley, I yawn and hunch into my seat. She smiles and greets me cheerfully. “Look at you, Little Miss Sunshine! I’m dying to hear how your night went. So, tell me, love, do you feel satisfied?”
“Well, I normally kiss and tell, but today it’s more like kiss and nothing to tell.
” I let out a groan and grab a menu from its holder.
It’s only to avoid my friend’s gaze; we both know I always order the same thing.
The waitress, who has seen us here more times than I can count, even greeted me when I walked in and asked if I wanted the usual.
It’s safe to say that we come here often.
There must be something on my face that concerns her as she takes my hand over the table and squeezes. “Honeybuns, it isn’t your fault that your ex enjoyed his side dishes.”
“Did you just call Vincent’s extracurricular activities side dishes?” I huff out.
“You can thank our dear Rose for that. She got mad when someone called the other woman a side hoe on TV and made us promise that we would never use that term. So, side dish it is.”
I love Rose. She’s another good friend of mine who used to live with Haisley until she reconnected with her first love Eli last year. Those two are the couple you jokingly hate spending time with, as they’re too much sometimes. Always kissing and touching, whispering love you’s. It’s awfully sweet.
“That’s just typical of Rose. How is she doing anyway? The last time I saw her was at her graduation party earlier this summer. That was like almost three months ago.”
“I was thinking of having the girls and Timmy over for drinks tomorrow, you should join us! It’s super lonely at the brownstone without them.” Haisley pouts before smiling at our waitress bringing our food.
A year ago, she still lived with her three roommates near where I work in Brooklyn Heights.
Since then, all three have moved out to live with their partners.
And I know how much Haisley would love to have a roommate since she hates living alone.
She has asked me to move in with her, but I need to be there to help mama and da if needed.
“I have the next two days off after tonight’s shift. Let me know what you decide, and I’ll be there," I tell my best friend.
As we discuss our plans for the next week, I eat my stack of waffles with strawberries and extra whipped cream.
I shouldn’t eat dairy because I’m lactose intolerant, but I’m treating myself after the shitty night and the last three months of singlehood.
Besides, I took Lactaid before arriving here because I always get the same thing and like to be prepared.