She understood the irony of saying she was fucked metaphorically after she'd been fucked literally, but there really wasn't any other word for it. Em was experiencing a severe case of what some would refer to as post-nut clarity, and others would call common fucking sense. She made up her mind. She never changed her mind. She had decided once and for all that she wasn't going to hook up with Quentin Blake anymore and then she did it anyway.
Maybe she was a slut. Em didn't think there was anything wrong with sluttiness (it always seemed like a sad attempt to shame women for the same behavior men were praised for) but she'd never used that word to describe herself. She liked sex, yes, but she preferred to have one person that she would be with until they caught feelings, at which point she would find someone else. That was more bitchy than slutty. But texting a man for a hookup knowing he could ruin your whole life was sort of next level. It was the kind of decision making that led her into the worst parts of her life. It was what she left behind when she decided to live better. Except apparently she hadn't left it behind, because here she was, naked and sticky and thoroughly worn through, with an extremely attractive, terribly out of her league man who was almost certainly lowering his standards by coming to her place to fuck.
Being self-effacing wasn't really her style, though. Not anymore. So she sat up, pulling her hair out of her messy bun and fixing it in a clean low ponytail. At least she'd gotten laid. She was always able to think better after a good hard fuck. She needed to clear the air with Quentin, and explain that she was going to be even busier from now on. Then she could slowly stop hooking up with him, and eventually say that she didn't want to keep him locked down when she didn't have time for it. Reasonable, and much less dramatic than ghosting him completely. Really, it was a much better idea.
"It'll be hard for me to meet up with you for a while after this." She said, pulling on her shirt. "I've got some other stuff going on so I'm going to be really busy."
"What stuff?"
"Regular stuff. Bills to pay, you know." After she said that, it occurred to her that he might not know. Did he pay his own bills, or did he hire someone to take care of those little details.
"Oh. Of course." He nodded. Em got the feeling he had no idea what she was talking about, but that wasn't her problem.
"I'll let you know when I'm available, but it won't be nearly as often." She turned around, and was shocked to see that he looked… sad. It made her heart clench, a little bit. Which was ridiculous. Men always make that stupid sad face when she says she's moving on, and they never mean it. It was some weird social rule of hookup culture, that you had to pretend your partners mattered to you. Em didn't need to waste her time feeling bad for him. So she shoved the feeling away and stood up, pulling on some pajama pants. Those shorts were way too cold to wear in this weather.
"What are you doing for the rest of the night?" Quentin asked. He was still sprawled out on the bed. He was making small talk to avoid having to get up. Em smiled.
"Calling some people, getting some rest while I still can. Probably watching some shitty free-with-ads movie and eating some expired caramel corn." Quentin made a face.
"You're eating dry crusty caramel corn for fun?"
"It's not crusty, it's just a little old."
"Caramel corn is already bad. I can't imagine it gets any better with age." Quentin said. Em scoffed.
"You don't like caramel corn? It's a classic."
"A classic what? Packing material?" Em couldn't help but laugh at that one.
"It's delicious."
"It tastes like if cardboard and plastic had a baby"
"It's the perfect blend of salty and sweet." Em said. "I bet you've never even eaten any."
"I've eaten plenty of caramel corn." Quentin was smiling too, which was making Em's head spin the same way it had the first time she saw it.
"Oh yeah? When."
"My mother bought it every year during Christmas. Every year her and my brothers made me 'give it a try' and every year I hated it. And caramel popcorn sticks in your teeth even worse than regular popcorn. Especially back when I had braces…"
"You had braces???" Em hopped back into bed, straddling him so he couldn't escape.
"Almost everyone in our generation had braces, Em." Quentin said. He was clearly trying to stay cool but there was a light blush on his cheeks.
"Oh, I bet you were adorable back then." She put her hands on both his cheeks. "Were you ever chubby?"
"All children were chubby at some point."
"Oh my god, you were. I have to see these pictures. Give me your phone."
"Absolutely not."
"Pleaseeeeeee." Em started poking his side, the same tactic she used to annoy Marco into giving her what she wanted.
"No way."
"Come on, Q! I've seen your dick but I can't see your childhood photos?" Men were so ridiculous. She wasn't going to tease him… well, she was, but that was normal! He shouldn't have mentioned his braces if he didn't want her to ask for pictures. Quentin's cheeks went deep red, and he turned to the side, trying to hide his smile.
"I don't just have them saved on my phone." He said.
"But…" Em leaned forward.
"I'll look through my albums and see what I can find."
"Yes! Thank you, thank you, thank you." She grabbed his neck and kissed him. She'd never done this after sex before. It implied something different about their relationship. Em decided not to think about it. It was an impulse decision. It didn't have to mean anything. And it didn't. She pulled back. "I'm holding you to that, you know."
"I'd expect nothing less from you." He said. She smiled and rolled over, collapsing next to him on the bed.
"Where are you headed after this?" She asked.
"Nowhere. I mean, home, I guess." He shrugged. "Honestly, I'm not really into going out."
"Me neither." She said, and reached over to grab her laptop. "Guess we're both spending the evening alone."
"I mean…" Quentin paused for long enough to make Em turn. "We don't… need to. I mean. I'm not doing anything after this…"
"You want to stay here and watch a bad movie with me?"
"Yes." Quentin said. Em hummed.
"Only if you try my caramel corn."