Well, Actually

by Mazey Eddings

To all the Hot Girls, especially those that rise to the occasion when men need to be taken down a notch.

“Stop acting like all your dreams need to be manifested before you’ve even had a chance to strive for them,”

“What I’m getting at, Eva,” she continues, a genuine look of care on her flawless face, “is that the world is not kind to your hopes and dreams, especially those of women. The universe does not give a damn about your plans and your aspirations and any of the grueling work you put in to reach them. The universe is random and harsh and throws whatever it wants at you, and all you can do is make the best of whatever shitty hand that is.”

I’m a lot of things—coarse, sarcastic, anxious, aggravating, aggravated, emotionally stunted—but vain tops the list and I’ll own that sin with pride, wear it like a scarlet letter to match with my perfect red pout.

Hot Girl isn’t something someone is born as. Hot Girl is an armor you put on.

Hot Girl isn’t a look or a style, it’s a commitment to doing whatever makes you feel unstoppable in the face of life’s fuckery. And I’ll be damned if I am anything but my hottest possible self on today of all days.

“I’m great, thank you so much,” he replies, flashing that dimple. It prods at something feral in me, making me want to scratch it off his face.

“Fuck yourself.” The words burst out of me in a laugh so sudden and violent I clamp a hand to my throat. Cooper’s eyes twinkle. “Stop being so charming or I might fall in love with you.”

“The truth is, I want all the dates you’ll give me because I’m terrified of you, Eva Kitt. And I know I’ll need as many opportunities as I can get to shake off the nerves and show you a good time.”

“So use me, Eva. Make an example of me. Help me show people what it’s like to work for it.”

His smile is slow like honey, and I’m a fly.

“Let’s make one thing clear,” I say, face twisting as I go toe to toe with him. We’re about the same height, and I offer a silent thanks to whatever entity made it so I don’t have to look up at him. “Under no circumstances will I be taking your Mini Cooper for a joy ride.”

I flip him off without looking, and I hate the way his resulting laugh echoes through me.

“Well,” he said, eyes still stuck on mine. “I think you’re pretty close to perfect.”

If there is an opportunity to talk shit, I will be talking shit. Similarly, if there is an opportunity to gossip my ass off, I will be spilling as much piping-hot tea as I can provide.

“Ever the charmer, Kitten.” “Call me that again and I’ll let you find out how these heels taste,” I reply sweetly,

“Oh my god, don’t get hysterical.” “I’m not hysterical!” he cries hysterically.

His eyes skim over me like I’m some precious piece of pottery that just crossed an ocean and he’s checking for scuffs and damage.

A genuine bark of laughter erupts from me, startling us both. Cooper seems to catch the sound, absorbing it as he blinks, that smile returning as his hand absently rubs against his sternum.

I’m a sucker for a himbo and this man exudes that energy in the best way.

“I just didn’t know you could read,” I reply sweetly. “Lea Michele is shaking.”

“You’re the human equivalent of Comic Sans,” I respond, working to check my own twitching lips as they try to mirror his. Cooper’s grin only grows. “I’m so glad you’ve picked up that words of affirmation are my love language. You make me feel so good about myself.”

Against my will, a honk of laughter bursts out of me. His eyes glint like he was just handed the winning numbers for the lottery.

His resulting smile is so brilliant, the sky must study his sunniness.

“Piss off. I’m a bitch and you know it.” I flick my hair behind my ear, letting out an unbothered chuckle. “I wear it with pride; you don’t have to lie to your listeners.”

“You may have quite the bite, but that’s what makes it all so fun.”

It’s an indisputable fact that I will develop the most intense (parasocial if need be) connection to any woman who is both hilarious and by some miracle finds me cool.

But you, Eva Kitt, are not just a woman. You have the devil in you. But don’t worry, I’ll win her over as well.”

Then his face creases with a smile, his laugh infectious. “You’re brutal.” I try to hide my own smile but it sneaks through. “So?” I mumble, taking another sip of my coffee. His grin slips into something more pensive, head tipping to the side as he studies me. “It’s alarming how much I like it.”

He winks at me. My grumpy reflexes aren’t quick enough, and I flash a smile. He stares at my lips, gray eyes sparking, and it feels like he’s trying to memorize the shape of them.

“She’s like a skunk always ready to spray. Girl chill you don’t always need to go so hard .” I blink a few times, trying to tamp down the twist of pain in my gut, but I keep my cruel smile in place. “Right. Because the second a woman makes a retort or a sarcastic comment, she’s overreacting and being too sensitive. Men pick fistfights at bars over less but I’m the one who needs to chill.”

“I like listening to you. I like never knowing what out-of-pocket thing you’re going to say next. I like hearing about your ideas and your thoughts and then reading how you piece them together. I like that you’re a little bit feral and that sometimes you let me get away with teasing you.” Each word is tapped into the blank page of my skin, inking deeper and deeper until I feel covered in his confession. “I like when you tease me,” I whisper, my admission feeling both too intimate and too inadequate.

“Jesus, Eva, put that female gaze away and stop undressing me with your eyes.” He grips his open collar like he’s clutching at pearls.

I am tough. And I’m sick of having to be. I’m sick of having to choke down my feelings, fend for myself. I’m sick of stepping into glass armor every day, waiting for whatever stones people on the internet chuck my way, whatever fractures the powers that be at my job chisel onto my surface. I’m sick of having to scrape my way to aloofness just so I’m not a nuisance to my friends. My family. I deserve softness, goddammit. I deserve tender moments and gentle caresses and whispered sweet nothings. I deserve someone, somewhere, wanting to like me for me and not the hardened veneer I gloss my vulnerability with.

His silver eyes fix on mine, and, for a moment, I wonder how I’m ever supposed to look at anything else.

I am so, so sorry I did that to you. It wasn’t because I didn’t want you, I just didn’t think I was allowed to have you.”

“And sometimes, I wonder,” he whispers, still not looking at me, “if you would change anything. If you would take back meeting me. I know it’s selfish, but I don’t think I could ever take back meeting you.”

“You might be the most conniving woman I’ve ever met.” “Thank you.” I blow him a kiss. “Maybe you have more game than I’ve given you credit for.” “That wasn’t a compliment,” he murmurs. “You terrify me.” My heart does a little flip as if he just told me I’m the most beautiful girl in the world, but I keep my face neutral.

“Sometimes you have to shove yourself out of the way and take a risk,” Harper says as the two of them stand, leaning on each other as they stumble toward the door. “Happiness might not be the outcome but it’s worth a chance.”

I’ve dreamed about you for years, but none of my memories did you justice.”

“God, you’re so fucking lovely when you beg.”

“I’ve brought you food. Please let me up.” Food? What kind of food?

Or did you drive here in your hideous car?” “Stop making fun of my car!” “Then stop driving a car so easy to make fun of!”

All of this is because I want to know you, be around you. Because I fucked it up once and I saw a second chance. Because now I’m so deep in this I would crawl through hell on my hands and knees over a bed of broken glass before I let you go again.”

“You like me?” I ask, voice both accusatory and horrifically tender. Rylie’s smile is wry, and he keeps his attention on his task. “Yes. Very much.”

His kiss is sunlight, dazzling me, warming me, sending brightness through my veins.

This bizarre man slipped past my walls and burrowed under my skin, taking up a permanent residence in my heart. I’d be furious if I didn’t adore him so damn much.

“Kitten, I’d rather spend every day getting in a pointless argument with you for sport than be bored and complacent with anyone else.”

“I don’t bring much to the table besides a bad attitude and incredible style.”

“Your bite is one of my favorite things about you; I’d never want you to go easy on me.”