Chapter 8: Bad advice
The coffee shop hummed with a low, comfortable energy. Steam hissed from the espresso machine, mingling with the rich, bitter scent of roasted beans and the faint, sweet aroma of pastries. Clara traced the grain of the worn wooden table with her fingernail, watching the patterns emerge and disappear.
“So you just… ended it? For good?” Crystal stirred her chai latte, the ceramic spoon clinking softly against the mug. Her blonde bob was perfectly sleek, her expression one of mild, detached curiosity.
“He came over this morning. We… talked.” Clara’s cheeks flushed with a heat that had nothing to do with her Americano. The memory of David’s weight, the mechanical rhythm, the profound emptiness that followed, was still fresh. “It just confirmed everything. He’s a good man. But it’s not enough.”
Crystal’s eyes, a pale, almost translucent blue, widened slightly. “And this confirmation happened right after you slept with… what was her name? Jade?”
Clara nodded, avoiding her friend’s gaze. She focused on a couple arguing quietly in the corner, their hissed words swallowed by the general murmur. “The timing is shitty, I know. But it was like… it was like I’d been eating bland food my whole life and someone finally gave me a meal with flavor. It woke something up in me. I can’t go back to porridge.”
“Porridge.” Crystal smirked. “That’s a new one. So David is porridge. And Jade is… what? A five-course meal?”
“Something like that.” Clara couldn’t bring herself to elaborate on the specifics. How could she describe the feeling of being stretched so perfectly, so completely, that every self-conscious thought about her own body simply evaporated? How the sheer, intimidating size of Jade had touched places in her she didn’t know could feel pleasure? Crystal, with her rotation of pleasantly adequate lovers, wouldn’t understand.
“Well,” Crystal said, leaning forward and lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Why does it have to be one or the other? If David is such a great guy, stable, nice, all that… and this Jade girl is the sexual revelation… maybe you don’t have to choose.”
Clara blinked. “What are you talking about?”
“Open relationship. Throuple. You know.” Crystal waved a dismissive hand. “People do it. You get the emotional security and the mind-blowing sex. Best of both worlds. You’re an artist, for god’s sake. You’re supposed to be open to unconventional arrangements.”
The idea landed not with a bang, but with a slow, unsettling seep. It was ridiculous. Preposterous. David would never go for it. The image of him and Jade in the same room, let alone the same bed, was a cognitive dissonance so violent it made her head spin. Yet, a treacherous, selfish part of her brain latched onto the fantasy. To have David’s steady, grounding presence and Jade’s… everything else.
“That’s your solution?” Clara said, her voice tighter than she intended. “Just collect them both?”
“I’m just saying, don’t limit your options based on outdated paradigms.” Crystal took a sip of her latte, utterly serene. “You’re allowed to want more than one thing.”
Clara opened her mouth to protest, to explain the monumental absurdity of Crystal’s suggestion, but the vibration against the table stopped her. Her phone screen lit up, a beacon in the dim café.
Crystal’s eyes, sharp and perpetually curious, darted down immediately. “Ooh, a text.” She leaned further, her short blonde hair swinging forward. “Is that… Jade?”
The name on the screen was unmistakable. Clara’s heart performed a frantic, lurching beat against her ribs. She snatched the phone up, her thumb smearing against the glass.
“Yeah,” Clara muttered, the word feeling inadequate. She clicked the screen off, but the damage was done.
“The Jade?” Crystal’s eyebrows arched, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. “The sexual revelation herself? What does she want?”
Clara’s face was on fire. She could feel the heat spreading down her neck. “She just… wants to know if I’m free to meet up later.”
“Wow. So it’s like that.” Crystal sat back, studying Clara with renewed interest. “I didn’t know you were into women.”
The question hung in the air, simple and devastating. Clara’s mind scrambled for purchase. How could she explain that it wasn’t about women, not exactly, but about the specific, overwhelming presence of Jade? The confidence, the kindness, the way her hands knew exactly how to hold Clara’s hips.
And the secret, monumental truth of her body.
“I… I don’t know if I am,” Clara stammered, her voice tight. “It’s not… it’s not that simple.”
“It’s not about man or woman,” Clara finally managed, the words feeling clumsy and inadequate. “It’s about… a specific chemistry. A connection that’s more about the person than their… category.” She fumbled for labels, for anything that could encapsulate the seismic shift Jade had caused. “Maybe I’m bisexual, or pansexual, or something. I don’t know. The word doesn’t matter. She matters.”
Crystal let out a short, dismissive laugh, swirling the dregs of her latte. “Chemistry? That’s just a polite word for wanting to jump someone’s bones. It sounds like you have insane, can’t-think-straight sexual chemistry with Jade. And you have comfortable, stable, porridge-like chemistry with David.” She leaned in, her voice dropping to a practical, almost mercenary whisper. “My point stands. Why not have both? You get the dependable boyfriend and the incredible fuck. It’s not rocket science, it’s logistics.”
Clara’s phone screen, still dark, felt like a live wire in her hand. Crystal’s absurd suggestion, which moments ago seemed like a joke, now wormed its way into her mind, finding fertile ground in her newfound hunger. The memory of David’s hurt face warred with the visceral, aching memory of Jade’s body claiming hers. She looked down at the blank screen, her thumb hovering.
With a sudden, decisive movement, she unlocked her phone and opened Jade’s message. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat of anticipation and guilt. She typed a quick reply, her fingers moving almost of their own volition.
‘My place? 8pm?’
She hit send before she could overthink it. The message whooshed away, a tiny digital commitment. Crystal watched her, a smug, knowing look on her face. Clara placed the phone face down on the table, the deed done. A strange, thrilling calm settled over her. Maybe, just maybe, Crystal’s ridiculous suggestion wasn’t so ridiculous after all.