Chapter 3

Sarah kneaded the dough for the breakfast loaf she planned on baking over the open fireplace. She had cooked a fabulous dinner for the three of them; cooking was more than a casual hobby for her.

“How are you holding up?” Jake asked Rachel, who dried the dishes he passed to her.

She liked Jake—as Sarah’s fiancé—but didn’t feel comfortable talking to him about her breakup. It was already difficult for her to open up to Sarah, who’d been her best friend for more than half their lives. Maybe it wasn’t fair to Jake, and it was a cliché perhaps, but all men could stuff it, as far as she was concerned.

Rachel had always been chubby. She was short, with uninteresting features, and frizzy hair that always looked dull, no matter how she styled it. She grew up carrying her insecurity into adulthood. In her years together with Dan—cheating, abusive, narcissistic, no-good Dan—she had always believed that he loved her for her personality and that her corpulence was of no concern. Opening up to him, sexually, had been a difficult and confronting journey for her. And now that he had betrayed her trust in the most despicable way—with the office pass-around—she felt hurt and humiliated beyond redemption.

Sarah, on the other hand, had a natural disposition for an athletic physique and looked as pretty straight out of bed as she did at a fancy soirée. That they were best friends had always felt like a mixed blessing. Sarah was spontaneous, caring, and generous. But as self-conscious as Rachel was about her appearance, so oblivious was Sarah about the contrast between them.

Rachel always felt that Sarah couldn’t sincerely sympathize with her friend’s apprehension. And Jake ... well, he was a guy.

“I’ll be fine,” she said. Her smile felt fake, even to herself. They finished the dishes in silence.

After Sarah had prepared everything for breakfast, they cleaned up and went to bed.

Rachel lay alone in a double bed, knowing she would be unable to fall asleep fast. The wind had picked up and ruffled the trees, louder than a city girl was used to. Just outside the window was the porch with the hot tub, and she swore she could smell the chlorine extending its ethereal fingers through the cracks and slits of the woodwork.

Murmurs and giggles bubbled up from the next room through the log walls. Sarah and Jake were undoubtedly practicing for their wedding night.

She tried not to imagine her friends naked—don’t think of an elephant—but to her own astonishment, the images flooded her mind almost instantly, as if they had always lingered at the edge of her consciousness.

Jake was tall, even for a man. When he wasn’t working in IT, he spent much of his free time in the gym. He wasn’t buffed or anything, but underneath his shirt, Rachel always suspected a lean and strong body, with impressive equipment to complement it.

She lingered on the figment of his supple, stringy muscles a bit more, and felt hot blood flush her apple cheeks.

What am I doing? She thought to herself. But instead of shaking off these visions, she followed them to their conclusion.

With a will of their own, her hands slid under the sheets to her breasts. They were full and firm—Dan had always insisted they were her best feature—and sensitive to the touch. She kneaded her flesh like she had watched Sarah knead her dough, and pinched her nipples almost painfully. Meanwhile, she imagined her hands gliding over Jake’s abs, lightly pressing into his muscles with her fingernails. Her hands descended further down, to...