The Opposite of Love Read Online Free Page A

unorthodox for Melanie, but was becoming commonplace these days, and it worked for them.
    It started four years before when she’d gone with her friend Lea to First Friday, a monthly festival put on by the Las Vegas arts community. Melanie had sipped wine and drifted through the mazes of galleries; she’d always been enamored with the bohemian atmosphere and ultra-friendly vibe of artists who were no doubt starving in the shallow pool of culture that existed in Las Vegas at the time, but who seemed equally as thrilled to receive a compliment as a sale.
    Derek’s work was particularly captivating. A mix of impressionism and surrealism, he captured skylines and landscapes in a way that was surprising but still pleasing to the eye. Derek turned out to be a friend of Melanie’s friend Lea, so she introduced them. And when the festival wound down at eleven o’ clock, he joined them at the Artisan Hotel for drinks at the bar.
    Lea yawned dramatically and excused herself around one, and it was around three in the morning when the rest of the crowd started trickling out. Melanie was embarrassed to find that she was in no shape to drive, but Derek seemed to know this and offered her a ride home.
    They waited together at valet, and when his car arrived, Derek said, “Let’s get you home.”
    “How about your place instead?” she asked.
    He nodded, but looked confused.
    The car ride was awkwardly quiet at first, so they’d gone back to chatting about art and his job as a high school teacher. And once they got to his townhouse, she’d had to practically force herself on him because his attempts at chivalry were becoming tiresome. As they sat on the sofa, he mentioned that he had a spare bedroom and she responded by kissing him and running her hands up under his shirt. She could feel that he had a solid chest and she was looking forward to getting a better look at it.
    He broke the kiss and she trailed her lips down his neck.
    “I don’t know if we should…”
    She stopped kissing his neck and looked him in the eyes.
    “Do you have a condom?” she asked.
    “Yes.”
    “Then I think we should.” She resumed kissing his cheek and neck.
    “But you’ve been drinking.”
    She stopped again.
    “Am I throwing up?”
    “No.”
    “Am I passed out?”
    “No.”
    “Am I slurring?”
    “No, but—”
    “Are you gay?”
    “No.”
    “Prove it.”
    And he did. Vigorously.
    In the morning, regret sank in quickly. While this wasn’t a completely unique situation, it had been years since she’d had such a casual hook-up.
    It was a warm Saturday morning as Derek drove Melanie back to the Artisan to pick up her car, warm enough that he had the windows up and the air conditioning on. Melanie closed her eyes and pretended to doze.
    When Derek dropped her off they exchanged business cards. His was a card promoting his work at the gallery, and the bold colors and eclectic font were a stark contrast to the classic simplicity of the card she had given him. Melanie looked at it twice as she drove home; he was not someone she would call. They had nothing in common. Derek was a high school art teacher, Melanie was a high-end real estate executive, and the differences were not only occupational but financial. In addition, he was a vegetarian, she was a voracious carnivore. He was a pot-smoker, she was a wine connoisseur. He was a yoga-practicing Buddhist. She was an avid runner who’d been brought up with an amalgam of spiritual beliefs.
    Melanie entered Derek’s phone number in her cell so she’d know not to answer it when he called. But once he’d been ignored, Melanie feared he would go to Lea and enlist her help, which would only complicate things. If she hadn’t been so horny and tipsy, she wouldn’t have set herself up this way, but she knew that whatever the consequences might be, it had been worth it. The sex had been amazing and Melanie felt like a new woman. After an eight-month dry spell, it had been just what she