“The trick with casual sex,” she said, “is not letting it go beyond casual.”
“Uh Huh,” he replied.
“You can’t let it get too deep; you can’t have expectations. Expectations are just commitments under an assumed name.”
“You’re right,” he said, peering at her from the corner of his eye.
“You can’t read too deep into anything either; so what she likes to lay on your chest, it’s just physical.” She ran her hands through her hair while he looked on.
“You have to just let things flow, too. You can’t blow up about a missed call or ignored text. What you’re doing is just casual. Casual sex. As soon as you start expecting stuff and reading ‘between the lines’, you’ve ruined it. You’ve taken a beautiful, carefree thing and turned it into that R-word.”
“And what word is that,” he asked, baffled at how awful the word must be if she wouldn’t even say it aloud.
“Relationship,” she spat, as if the word itself made her sick to her stomach.
“Oh,” he replied. “I guess you’re right about that.”
The conversation tapered off, the way uncomfortable conversations seem to do. The silence was like a blanket, thick but comforting too. They lay there, letting the breeze from the open window cool their sweaty bodies.
“Yea,” she sighed, “casual is best”. Her hand slid its way towards his.
“Agreed,” he replied, as his hand met hers halfway.
Together, they watched the curtain flutter from the breeze.