The Opposite of Love Read Online Free Page B

needed.
    When two weeks had gone by and Derek hadn’t called, she breathed a sigh of relief. Clearly he also felt they had nothing in common.
    Except good sex, of course.
    But then why hadn’t he called? Hadn’t the sex been good for him? The thought that he might not have enjoyed it as much as she did ate at her until she was forced to call him.
    It wasn’t until they’d had sex twice more that she was sure he was enjoying it as much as she was, and they settled into a sexual relationship that left her feeling uniquely satisfied. Their worlds were very different, as she’d suspected, but they spent the majority of their time at his place with only an occasional excursion for food. She’d been able to enjoy their relationship for the benefits it offered rather than focusing on the things it lacked because she didn’t think of him as a potential mate. The conversations they had were revealing, yet comfortable. The lack of investment carried with it a lack of vulnerability. There was an intimacy that was only possible because there was no anticipation of betrayal; without strings, there could be no betrayal. There was no fear of disappointment because there were no expectations.
    They had developed a friendship—founded on sex, sure—but a friendship nonetheless. And four years later, it was still just as comfortable.
     
     
    It was early April and the weather was heating up during the day. Melanie sat quietly at the breakfast bar and enjoyed the breeze coming through the open window above the sink. It was almost eleven and Derek would have to be up early for school. She was wrung out from the day’s events.
    Melanie yawned and stretched her arms over her head. “Enough about me,” she said. “How are things going with the new girl?”
    “Sharon? They’re going ok.”
    “So where’s all that unrestrained optimism now?”
    Derek shrugged. “Too soon to tell, but she might have potential.”
    “Oh really now? Should I save the date?”
    “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Mel. It’s only been a couple months.” Derek stood and placed his cup in the sink. Melanie moved to his side of the counter.
    “Ok, but warn me if you two start to get serious. You’d be a tough one to replace.” She grinned, pressed herself against him and ran her hands over his backside.
    Derek kissed her and raised his eyebrows at her. “I’d like to see you try.”

 
     
     
     
     
     
    I know too much. I am less easily conned. I don’t beam up at them with those eager eyes. I don’t smell the bullshit and call it roses.
    — Erica Jong, “Any Woman’s Blues”

 
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Three
     
     
    “Just let it go.”
    That was the mantra, the edict, the decree Melanie lived by—in life, in love, in work and in traffic. It was also the last thing Jen appeared to want to hear at the moment.
    “You always say that. But you never explain how to do it,” said Jen. Sitting cross-legged on the couch, she pulled her blonde hair back from her face and then let it fall again. She swiped at her nose with the back of her hand.
    Melanie smiled and handed her sister another tissue from the box on the coffee table.
    “Look, there are a lot of ways to let go. Where would you like to start?”
    “Give me the quickest one.”
    Melanie shook her head. “None of them are all that quick. But they’re a hell of a lot quicker than what you’re doing. At this rate you could get old and gray before you get over that loser.”
    Jen lowered the tissue from her nose and sobbed. “It’s only been six months.”
    “So?”
    “They say if you cut the time you were together in half, that’s how long it takes to get over him.”
    Jen blew her nose and dropped the soiled tissue into the pile on her lap. Melanie handed her another tissue.
    “If you get snot on my sofa, I’m not giving you any more wine. Understand?”
    Jen wailed in reply.
    “Look,” said Melanie, “that ‘half’ rule only applies to people who call their exes on a