She ate another one of Mark’s chocolates, swallowed hard, and looked down at her phone’s screen. “I KNOW THIS GUY,” AnnaCabana had written. So had IllieBeilish, Liminalia, Cass247, BellaLuna, and FondaWand15, who wrote, “His name is Sebastian Piersall and he works for Scoop.com.” There went the last, lingering shred of doubt she’d held on to, Abby thought. She forced herself to keep reading.
“Ladies, best get yourselves tested for STIs,” PhantaRay6 had written. Abby shuddered. “He’s a 10, but his body count is higher than your town’s population,” User27847 had said. “IS HE TRYING TO FILL A BINGO CARD?” asked NikkiMenage.
One comment that read “This is slut shaming. We get mad when guys do this to us. Let’s be better” had gotten 365 likes, while one that read “He could at least branch out and try some different zip codes” had gotten 1,454. And on and on it went. Commenters of both genders hailed his commitment to diversity or joked about his endurance. Some guys were trashing him. Others were defending him or just offering him virtual high fives.
Abby shook her head. Then she called Lizzie.
“It’s the same guy, right?” Lizzie said. “I remembered the name from the trip roster, and I figured there can’t be that many Sebastian Piersalls in the world.”
“Yes,” Abby said. Her voice sounded leaden. “Same guy.”
“I knew it!” Lizzie crowed. “Hashtag Kissing Bandit!” She lowered her voice. “Lucky you. Your very first time as ride leader, and you’ve got a celebrity!”
Abby closed her eyes. “Lizzie,” she said. “Do you remember the guy I met when I went to New York for Kara’s bachelorette party?”
The ensuing pause felt like it lasted for a very long time. “Oh, Abby,” Lizzie finally said. “Oh, no.”
Abby didn’t answer. Lizzie said, “Well, that was, what, two years ago? Maybe he wasn’t, you know, um…”
“Sleeping with everything that has a pulse back then?” Abby said. She pressed her fisted hand between her eyebrows. “I feel so stupid.”
“Why?” Lizzie asked. “How does this make you stupid?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe not stupid.” Abby bit her lip. “Basic. Gross. Not special,” she said. “And the thing was…” Abby squeezed her eyes more tightly closed and made herself say it. “I liked him.”
“Oh, Abby.”
“I did. I liked him a lot. He made me feel…” She swallowed hard. The detail her mind had snagged on wasn’t the sex, or the feel of his mouth on her breasts or his hands on her hips, the things he’d murmured in her ear or how he’d looked at her, but how he’d made pasta, and carried two bowls back to bed. How he’d twirled a forkful of noodles and brought them to her mouth. How sweet he’d been. “He made me feel special. Like I was special to him,” she finally said. “And, clearly, I was not.”
“You are special.” Lizzie’s voice was calm, low, and soothing.
“It doesn’t matter,” Abby said. “It’s not like I’m single.” She squared her shoulders and straightened her neck, her mouth a firm line, her posture resolute.
“So give me an update. How’s the ride?”
“Well.” Abby told her friend about the Spoke’n Four, how Andy had a crush on Morgan and how Morgan was barely speaking to her mom.
“And how are things with Eileen?” Lizzie asked delicately. Abby didn’t answer. “Before you get mad at me, let me just say this—she told me she wanted to spend time with you, and I believed her.”
“Spend time with me. By which you mean monitor every bite of food I put in my mouth and ask me seventeen different times how much weight I think I’ll lose, after all this biking. Or if Mark and I have made any plans yet.” Abby’s voice sounded like she was joking, even though she wasn’t.
“She’s trying,” Lizzie said.
“I know,” Abby said, and realized it was true. In her own belated, clumsy way, Eileen was making an effort. Which meant, Abby knew, that she’d have to be the bigger person—ha, ha, ha—and meet her mother’s attempt as generously, as kindly as she could.
She said goodbye to her friend and got dressed for dinner in her off-the-bike outfit, wishing she’d packed something prettier, less utilitarian than her linen pants and tee shirt. Shoes on, hair combed, she stepped out of her hotel room at the precise instant that Sebastian emerged from the room next door—because of course he’d be in the room next door. He wore jeans and a dark blue tee shirt, and even with his shamefaced expression, he looked handsome and appealing.