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I had made a huge mistake.
My phone buzzed on my porch with a fresh round of drama. Alerts bearing phrases like “reckless immaturity,” “thought with your dick,” and “make amends” spilled across the screen. Humboldt Park was a symphony of car horns and Puerto Rican music in the wet evening air, and yet the DMs of my disintegrating writers group seemed louder somehow.
My fling with my younger friend and coauthor was all fun and orgasms until I hit the exit. Meg had not taken the news well, and left the writers group. The writers group had not taken her exit well. I had not taken their takes well. How was I supposed to know that my actions would have consequences?
But as a consolation, Cyrus was still coming over.
A few months prior, Cyrus joined my writers group for help with his screenwriting hobby. I’d known him for years, and he followed my second divorce rebound with interest. One day, he announced he was getting back on all the dating apps, inspired by my unhinged sluttery. Within a week, he was fucking a new woman every day. Then he moved onto a threesome with a married couple, the gateway drug to bisexual hedonism. The next day, he texted me that he’d fucked the husband as well as the wife, and needed to think about his life.
What can I say? My bisexual wizardry knew no bounds.
His SUV rolled to a stop at the curb, and Cyrus swung his massive legs onto the street. He’d swept through the needy bottoms of Tinder like a freight train, and the glow up showed. He walked with a cocky swagger, and wore a god damned cowboy hat. His barrel chest strained against his half-buttoned shirt, and my mouth watered at the thought of what awaited me underneath.
“Welcome to my new place,” I said with a smirk and a flourish. My second divorce apartment awaited us behind me, an ancient shotgun unit in Humboldt Park. “Sorry about all the drama,” I added as my phone buzzed yet again.
Cyrus chuckled. “I turned off my alerts,” he said. Then I was in his arms, my breath taken away as I was the one swept up for a change. He was as tall as I was, and bulkier by half, his massive arms claiming me with his uncompromising strength. His beard brushed my face alongside his confident lips, reassuring, claiming.
God, he was amazing.
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