Chapter Text
Christen Press was already awake when her alarm trilled through her apartment. She’d already scribbled in her dream journal, already read through the morning news, and played all the word games. She’d been awake for an hour just waiting to get out of bed.
She kicked her covers off and sat with her legs hanging off the side of her bed. She had exactly forty-five minutes to get ready before Sydney stopped in front of her building with her morning coffee and newspaper. And in her head Christen turned it into a little bit of a game to see just how close she could cut it.
Shower, brush her teeth, do her hair and pick out a simple work outfit for the day. She put in tiny gold earrings and a delicate sliver of gold necklace that matched – understated and beautiful. She misted her curls and tousled them, applied mascara and a little blush. Professional, if not beautiful.
She toasted a slice of bread and spread butter on top, returned a couple of texts while she dusted around her living room. She read through her lecture notes for the day while applying gloss. She grabbed her coat from the hook on her door and took the elevator while sending good morning texts to the family group chat.
And when she walked out the doors of her building just as Sydney’s car pulled up, she knew it had been another perfectly executed morning routine.
God, I need to get a life, she thinks as she makes her way to her best friend’s car that they’ve affectionately coined the ‘mommy mobile’. Maybe Dad’s right – I’m too competitive.
“Good morning”, Christen greeted as she reached for her coffee in Sydney’s cup holder.
“Oh, you’re extra chipper this morning”, Sydney said with an eyeroll and soft smile.
“It’s Wednesday – which means it’s almost Friday, and you know I love my Fridays at work”.
“How you managed to have no classes on a Friday is still so insane to me”.
“If you wear the Dean down enough, she makes concessions”, Christen said with a proud smile. “We just gotta get over the hump on Hump Day and then it’s the weekend”. She took a small sip of her latte. “D’you have the boys this weekend?”
“Yeah, and they want to go to the zoo. They’re in their obsessed with monkeys phase”, Sydney says with a smile.
“Oh, maybe they’ll become behavioural psychologist like their mom”.
“Well, not everyone follows as closely in their parent’s footsteps as you”, Sydney said with a soft chuckle. “Oh, almost forgot”. She reached for her cell phone to open her Spotify. “It’s your favourite day of the week”.
“Oh, God…” Christen already lamented and gave a long-suffering sigh. “You’re still listening to that crap? I honestly thought it was just a phase”.
“It started out as morbid curiosity, but…” Sydney shrugged. “… Now I kinda like it. I think it’s hilarious”.
Christen couldn’t even hide her discontent. The fact that her super smart, incredibly in-tuned best friend even listened to that hideous podcast was actually maddening.
At first she thought that the divorce had made Syd a little jaded and that the woman found solace in a show that was all about the single life and living commitment-free. But now she had openly admitted that she actually liked it.
“It’s the worst love and relationship podcast currently out. And that host is an absolute—” The rest of Christen’s sentence died on her tongue as the annoying acoustic guitar jingle played and aforementioned host’s scratchy voice could be heard.
“Good morning, good evening, good day and welcome back, lover girls and commitment-phobes alike to You Don’t Need Her, the podcast where we keep it real about dating, sex, love and relationships. I’m your host, Tobin Heath and as always with me, wing woman extraordinaire Alex Morgan…”
“And together we’re bringing you the hoarsest podcast in America – which was a funny comment that one of you left on our video. That was a good one”.
“Quite clever, but you know what? Always work on your comedy because for most people, if you can’t be pretty and hot – be funny and you’ll still be pulling women”.
“Exhibit – any mediocre male comedian and his model hot wife”.
“Exactly, but we’re not here to talk about that… We’ve got a packed show for you today, because… Alex, let ‘em know what we’re talking about in today’s episode”.
“Oh, we are talking about the big news that’s been under wraps for a few months, but now it’s finally out in the open. Tobin, you’ve written your first self-help book!”
“Yes, I have! And I am so excited to talk about the book with y’all. I wanna get you hyped for it so that when it drops in two weeks you’re gonna wanna go out and buy it. It’s gonna be available on the You Don’t Need Her website, at your nearest bookstore, and it’s available as an audiobook”.
“And we just thought that today’s episode should be dedicated to your book, so please… tell us all about it”.
Tobin chuckled. “Well, I know that some of you poor, unfortunate souls still believe in romance. You still think there’s someone out there who won’t ghost you, who’ll text back on time, who won’t be swiping on Hinge while you’re in the bathroom. I’m here to tell you – and my book is here to reinforce—that it’s all a scam. Feelings? Love? Relationships? Scam, scam, scam”.
“And before you say, ‘But Tobin, what if I just haven’t met the right person?’ Babe, let me be clear – there is no right person. There is no one worth crying over, worth going all goo-goo eyes over. Stay commitment-free, have casual sex – don’t risk giving your heart to someone only for them to use and abuse your trust, your loyalty and your love. My book, ‘The Foolproof Six’ breaks down my six golden rules for staying unattached. These rules will save you from heartbreak, embarrassment, and from waking up one day and realising you’ve become one of those annoying people who post blurry selfies on Instagram of you kissing your ‘person’ on the cheek. Don’t be that girl – please”.
“Did you hear that absolute drivel? How can you listen to this with a straight face?”, Christen asked, turning the volume a tad lower. “I’m not in the business of diagnosing people, but that—” she pointed to the car stereo, “—sounds like mental illness”.
“Oh, come on! It’s not that bad”, Sydney chuckled. “Just because someone’s world view or views on relationships and love differ from yours doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with them. Tobin and Alex get a lot of listeners – people like hearing their take on things”.
Christen scoffed, taking a long, contemplative sip of her coffee.
Sydney was right – Tobin Heath’s views are quite literally the opposite of hers. For as long as Christen could remember, she had been a romantic. Maybe it was the Disney princess movies she watched as a young child. And maybe that bled into her teenage years of shipping Elena with Damon and Kurt with Blaine. Maybe she watched a few too many Jane Austen adaptions and maybe she fancied herself a Keira Knightley, waiting on a serious, though charming introspective aristocrat to sweep her off her feet.
Maybe she believed in happily-ever-afters a little too much. But, she couldn’t help it. She grew up in a loving home with parents who absolutely adored one another. And she wanted that – even as a kid, she dreamt about finding the person she would spend forever with.
Meanwhile, this shady Tobin Heath character was going around on the internet spewing her anti-love rhetoric like the world’s most emotionally-stunted cult leader. And people were actually listening to her.
Instead of believing in true love, people were flocking to doomsayers like Tobin Heath. And that irked Christen endlessly
“Because if we really break it down gals, gays, and theys, love is just a series of well-timed chemical reactions. It’s there to turn you into a smooth-brain chump”.
“How does she keep getting worse and worse?”, Christen asked through gritted teeth. She had her hand wrapped so tightly around the cup that the lid was about to pop off.
“She is just telling it like it is. Not everyone wants to be in a relationship – some of us are out here thriving”, Sydney shrugged. “And like I said, I find her charming and funny”.
“Funny? She literally spends every episode giving a TED Talk on how to emotionally stunt yourself. Come on, don’t tell me you actually agree with her?”
“Not with everything. But she’s made valid points. I might even have to buy her book and read up on these rules… Save myself the trouble of heartbreak”, Sydney quipped.
“Seriously?”
“I don’t wanna be in a relationship again if it ends up like my last one…”
“Not every marriage ends in divorce, though Syd…”
“Mine did”.
“Well, yeah… but… But relationships can also be beautiful. Love can be beautiful. … It could be like a fairytale if you let it”.
“Oh, that’s not what you said when Jessie left you crying into a pint of ice-cream”.
“Oh wow, Syd… that was low”, Christen said and shook her head in the negative. Sydney was all about tough love – they kept each other honest in this friendship. Even if her bringing up Syd’s divorce or Syd bringing up her last failed relationship was harsh.
“I didn’t mean it like that, I’m just saying… We have both been unlucky in love, Christen. I’ve grown from it and you… well, you keep hoping”.
Christen worried the inside of her bottom lip between the bit of her teeth. She’d always have hope that the perfect person for her was out there somewhere. She’d always hope for her own love story.
“Yeah… cos I… I’ve seen real love and know what it’s like… and I want to experience it someday. And if that makes me a smooth-brain idiot, well then… Fuck Tobin Heath and her stupid podcast”.
=
“So, I’m sure you’ve all heard the lines – I don’t do relationships. I’m not looking for something serious. Or my personal favourite – love Is just a series of well-timed chemical reactions designed to make you stupid”.
Christen leaned against the edge of her desk, arms primly crossed to her chest.
“Isn’t that… kinda true though? Like, biologically?”, a shaggy haired student asked.
“Sure, if you want to strip human connection down to serotonin spikes and oxytocin releases, be my guest. But let’s be real – this whole ‘love is a scam’ narrative isn’t based on science. It’s based on fear.
Mal, one of Christen’s most promising students, raised her hand. “So, you’re saying that everyone who avoids love or serious, committed relationships are… afraid of it?”
“Not all of them – I’m mainly speaking to that subset of people who go out of their way to shut people out emotionally while still wanting connection in the form of physical intimacy. Of course, there are many factors when it comes to those who are emotionally unavailable, but I’m talking about the people who have almost convinced themselves that the best way to avoid love is to avoid feelings altogether. They make up these rules to protect themselves, but in actual fact they are building walls up that prevents others from loving them”.
“Um, Professor Press, you sound kinda mad”, shaggy haired dude noted with a low chuckle.
“I’m furious, actually”, Christen then doubled down. “Look, I get it. Vulnerability is scary. No one wants to be the one who cares more, who gets hurt. But if you spend your whole life treating love like it’s a game to win or lose, you’re gonna end up being the biggest loser of all”.
“So, what’s the alternative?”, another student asked, her brows knitted together.
“The alternative?”, Christen parroted, tapping her finger on her chin as she mulled it over. “You challenge it”, she finally said. “You take the people who say they can’t be moved… and you move them”.
Mal’s brows knitted together as she jotted down in her notebook. “So, you challenge their philosophy?”
“That’s…” Christen’s eyes lit up at the her precautious student’s words. It hits her like a lightning bolt. ’That's… exactly what you do”.
=
Christen used her hard-earned money to buy a copy of Tobin Heath’s ridiculous book.
She wanted to know what these rules were, and why Tobin thought these were the magical steps to staying in commitment-free mode. What was it about these rules that made them must-live-bys in the messed-up world of the most infuriating podcaster and supposed ‘love guru’ in the world?
Christen read the book with a highlighter and a pen, making small annotations as if though it’s some academic research paper. And every so often she scoffed and reached for her glass of red wine – anything to help the dross go down better.
Rule number one – NEVER take your hook-ups back to YOUR apartment.
This is the most basic rule. If you break it, you might as well hand over your dignity and start picking out a couples’ Halloween costume. ‘Cos here’s the deal; if they come to your place they see your space. They learn about you, they start leaving little things behind. A hair tie, a toothbrush, a tiny foothold into your life.
Suddenly you’re waking up and there’s an oat milk latte on your nightstand because they felt like you would like one. That’s intimacy, babe. That’s a trap. Always go to their place. And when you’re done? Leave.
Rule number two - NEVER meet their family or introduce them to yours. This one is self-explanatory. The second you meet their mom it’s over. You’re in too deep. Moms love me by the way, but I don’t let it get that far.
Meeting family means you start getting emotionally involved. Emotional involvements lead to good morning texts. Good morning texts lead to monogamy and monogamy leads to… ugh… making holiday plans. No thank you.
Rule number three – NEVER have sleepovers. Look, I don’t care how good the sex is. I don’t care if it’s 3 am and Uber’s surcharge is criminal. DO NOT STAY OVER. Sleeping over means comfort. Comfort means cuddling. Cuddling mean attachment. You ever woken up next to someone and felt that stupid, warm, content feeling? That’s your brain trying to ruin your life. Get up. Put your pants on and LEAVE.
Rule number four – NEVER see them more than THREE times. You need to have discipline for this one. You can’t handle a fourth night, that’s just the oxytocin talking, babe. That’s your hormones tricking you into attachment. Three nights together is the max. if you’re doing anything beyond that? Then you’re playing house and you’re an idiot if you’re still playing house in big 2025.
Rule number 5 – NEVER let them see you vulnerable. The one is crucial. Mystique keeps you in control. The moment you let them see you cry, the moment you let her comfort you? You’ve lost. You are now the girl they worry about and soon they will be trying to fix you. Don’t be a broken bird that needs fixing.
Keep your emotions to yourself – or keep it between you and your therapist.
Rule number 6 – NEVER SAY I MISS YOU . I don’t care if you do miss ‘em. I don’t care if you’re sitting at home alone. You do not text them, you never say it out loud. I miss you is a gateway drug. It leads to I wish you were here. And I don’t want to see other people and then… I think I love you.
And before you know it, you’re drafting a wedding Pinterest board.
Christen made her notes, tabbed the pages that she found particularly egregious. She studied Tobin Heath’s way of thinking. The woman was an engaging writer – she’ll give her that. The book clocked in at a cool two hundred pages and it was a quick read.
Too bad it was filled from cover to cover with mindless, baseless, hateful rhetoric.
Christen grabbed her MacBook, searched Tobin’s name. It was already way past midnight, but her academia brain had taken over. She was in research mode – trying to find out as much as she possibly can about Tobin Heath.
She scrolled through pages and pages of pictures on the woman’s Instagram. Gym selfies (oh, so cringe – even if all that exercising seems to be working out well for her.) Pictures of the food she ate, pictures of the wing of a plane as she jetted off to spread her horrible gospel over these United States.
But, there were no personal pictures on her feed. No family time during the holidays, or cosy pictures with friends. It’s just a perfectly curated Instagram with no real substance.
She was not some big, bad know-it-all guru – she was a fuckboi, alpha-female nerd who thought having no-strings-attached sex was the coolest thing in the world.
“Not so scary, are you Heath?”, Christen mumbled into her wine glass. “Just scared”.
=
“The bottom line is – people fall into this trap. They think a fling means something. Okay, just because we had a good time, just because you sat on face and I made you see stars doesn’t mean that it’s anything real. It was sex, get over it”.
Christen shook her head and quickly reached for Sydney’s phone, switching the podcast over to the ‘workout playlist’.
“Huh? I was listening to that still. Come on, that wasn’t even her worst take”, Sydney complained.
“She’s terrible”, Christen grunted into her cup of coffee,
“Okay, but why do you let her get under your skin like that?”
Christen didn’t have a real reason, but also simultaneously did have a real reason. Tobin Heath was like the anti-her. And it infuriated her that Tobin could get away with being so hateful online.
“Because she’s so smug! She is so convinced that love is some kind of joke. People actually listen to her and they believe the crap she spews. I’ve devoted my life to studying relationships and human connection and sociology and – it’s frustrating that this—this woman has built a platform off of dismissing love”.
“Well, some people just don’t want love”, Sydney shrugged. “What’s so bad about that? Ever heard of aromantic or asexual people?”
“Yes, of course – but I’m not talking about them. I’m talking about the people who are scared of love – it’s different”. Christen swallowed hard, but then a mischievous smile spread over her lips. She’d had two weeks to think this over, two weeks to decide if it was even worth the time and effort. “But, fear is something you can work on. Years ago my mom wrote a whole paper on the most effective way to isolate your fear and challenge it”.
“Oh…kay?”
“Exposure therapy, Christen said with a bright, I-know-something-you-don’t smile.
“Okay, why do you look like that?”, Sydney asked, glancing at her with narrowed eyes. “You’re starting to freak me out”.
“Try breaking all six of the rules and see what happens…” Christen mumbled. She turned to face her best friend, who was driving them to work like she always did. “Expose her to the thing she’s most afraid of and do it by breaking her rules”.
“Okay, I don’t like that look on your face. That’s your ‘I’m about to do something stupid’ look”, Sydney said with a raised brow.
“What if I did?”
“Did what?”
“What if I made her break all six of her own rules?”
“Um… what?”
“Think about it! She acts like she’s so untouchable. Like, she’s immune to falling for someone – but she’s not. She has these rules in place to keep herself unattached, right? But they’re just walls to protect her from her fear of love and commitment”.
“Chris, no”
“Chris, yes”
Sydney shook her head, mostly in disbelief. “That’s a terrible idea”
“I think it’s a brilliant idea”.
“You are going to seduce a woman out of spite?”, Sydney asked in a befuddled tone of voice, and with an equally perplexed expression on her face.
That was one way of putting it, but it’s accurate. Christen gave a nod. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m going to do”.
“This is… wow. Wow…”, Sydney mumbled under her breath. “And h-how exactly are you fixing to do that? You don’t even know her, you don’t even move in the same circles as her”.
“But she lives in New York City, doesn’t she?”, Christen asked. “And look, coincidentally that’s where we are right now…”
“Chris… This… this sounds like a very bad idea”, Sydney said, already sounding worried for her best friend. “And it also sounds like a lot of hard work…”
“I’ve already begun doing my research. I knew more about her than I ever thought I’d care to know and…” Christen leaned forward and grabs a black notebook from her handbag. Flipping it open, she began to read. “Ego-driven, avoidant. Secretly terrified of love and connection. The operation? Make Tobin Heath break all her own rules. Make her realise how stupid they were in the first place. The Objective: To challenge the subject’s anti-romance philosophy. Hypothesis: If exposed to sustained emotional connection under the right conditions, subject will unintentionally develop attachment and contradict her beliefs”.
“How are you going to meet her? How are you going to enforce this plan?”
“Oh well, she’ll be at a book signing sundowners event on Friday and I managed to grab the last available ticket”, Christen said proudly. “See? The universe is already on my side. I’m gonna look good, be flirty and… we’ll see if she approaches me”.
Sydney continued to shake her head at Christen’s plan. “I still think this is a very bad idea”.
“It might be, but I have to try”, Christen said with a determined look on her face.
=
The sundowner event was exactly the kind of thing Tobin loved – half networking, half book signing, and a lot of beautiful women surrounding her.
But it was her third book signing of the week after a crazy press tour the week before. In a perfect world she’d be horizontal on the sectional in her living room watching Severance. Instead, she was here – perched on a sleek barstool with a glass of prosecco, surrounded by a sea of cocktail dresses.
She’d already signed a dozen copies of her book, already dodged the advances of two overly eager fangirls. She sighed softly and checked the time on her phone, seeing she only had about an hour of this event left to endure. She brought her glass to her lips and then she felt it.
A gaze.
Not just any gaze. The gaze. The kind Tobin could always feel – the one where someone with electric eyes stared her down so intensely that it felt like lasers.
Tobin’s eyes flicked up, scanning the rooftop crowd until she found her.
A woman, standing by the other end of the open bar, wine glass in hand – stared pointedly in her direction. She’s dressed in something silky, red and deceptively simple but devasting and definitely effective.
She looked at Tobin – direct and steady and not shy in the slightest.
Tobin raised a brow, bringing her glass of wine to her lips. Alright, I’m listening, she thought.
The woman smirked, just the barest quirk of the corner of her mouth. She took a slow slip of her wine – still staring.
Oh, this one knows exactly what she’s doing.
Tobin exhaled, amused. She tilted her head slightly, silently asking ‘what’s your play here, gorgeous?’
The woman’s eyes sparkled with something mischievous, she dragged a finger down the stem of her wine glass. Tobin choked on her drink.
With a sigh, Tobin set her drink down, rolled her shoulders and pushed off her barstool.
Fine, gorgeous. If you want my attention, then you’re about to get it.
Christen saw Tobin approaching and she could barely hide her grin. It felt like a hook, line and sinker moment.
She’d studied this woman. Speed-ran through hours of her podcast. She read that awful book cover to cover. And one of the many things that she now knew about Tobin Heath was that she couldn’t resist a challenge.
So, she’s made herself one.
She’s dressed well – in a silky, red dress with heels and delicate jewellery. She looked at Tobin in a way she knew would get under her skin – she made Tobin feel her attention, and the woman wondered about her. There was a curiosity.
And now? Now, Tobin was stood in front of her, all sharp jawline, confidence and charm.
Christen had seen more than her share of Tobin Heath pictures, but none of them did the woman justice. Warm brown eyes with just the tiniest little crinkled at the corners of them, an easy smile spreading over slightly chapped lips.
“Alright”, Tobin said, voice scratchy like it sounded on her podcast. “You win”.
Christen blinked innocently. “Win what?”
Tobin scoffed. “Oh, come on… You spent the last five minutes trying to summon me over here with just your eyes, I’m actually quite impressed”.
Christen hummed, taking another slow sip of wine. “And here you are”.
Tobin smirked. “Like I said – you win”.
“What do I win?”, Christen asked, lips curled into a small smile.
“What do you want the prize to be?”, Tobin asked, sliding a hand into the pocket of her slacks.
Christen smiled shyly, tilted her head. “Anything impressive”.
“And what’s impressive to you then, stranger?”, Tobin chuckled, slow and knowing.
“You’ll have to find that out yourself”, Christen said, letting her eyes drop slightly to take her time looking Tobin over.
Tobin exhaled through her nose, looking both amused and intrigued. She leaned in, just enough to make Christen’s breath hitch.
“Why don’t I just give your what every girl at this party really wants?”, Tobin offered, her gaze lowering to admire the plunging neckline of Christen’s dress.
“And what’s that?”, Christen played it innocently, even if her face flushed red under Tobin’s visible ogling.
“A private drink with me”, Tobin smirked.
Tobin led Christen back inside, to a dimly lit top floor with a bar. It wasn’t private, but it was away from the party and secluded enough for some one-on-one time.
Christen swallowed, trying her best to play her role perfectly. She had to simultaneously hide her discontent and disgust for Tobin Heath while pretending to find her incredibly dreamy.
She settled onto a high stool beside her, crossing her legs just enough to catch the woman’s wandering eye.
She knew from her research that Tobin hated woman who talked about themselves too much. She had to keep the focus of the conversations on Tobin.
“So, tell me”, she began. “Is this your signature move? Whisk women away with the promise of a drink with the one and only Tobin Heath?”
“Most times that’s all I have to do, yeah”, Tobin smiled. She beckoned the bartender over. “What’s your poison?”
Christen turned to the redhead behind the bar. “Zinfandel”.
“Just a glass of water for me”, Tobin added before the bartender walked away. She turned and smiled at the slightly bemused Christen. “Can’t drink too much if I’m gonna give you a ride home later”.
Christen scoffed a laugh that came out a little too bitter. She offered a smile. “Is the classic Tobin Heath confidence something you practice in the mirror, or where you just born with it?”
“Born with it, obviously”, Tobin smirked. “But since you know and love to use my name so much… Why don’t you tell me yours? I mean, I could call you Gorgeous all night, but…”
“Christen… Christen Press”.
“Mm… And is that a L.A accent I detect there, Christen?”
She shouldn’t be impressed that Tobin figured that out. “Yeah, I was born and raised out there”.
“L.A girls are usually very… I mean very, into me”. Her gaze dropped to Christen’s lips for just a second.
“Well, maybe I’m the one that’s impervious to your charms”.
“I don’t think you… You’re eating it up”, Tobin flashed what could only be described as a mega-watt Hollywood smile.
Christen’s stomach flipped.
She had expected Tobin to be a massive flirt who would say all the right things, but she hadn’t expected that smile. Or the weight of her gaze, the low timbre of her voice.
She reached for her wine that the bartender had thankfully placed in front of her by then.
“So, what brought you here tonight?”, Tobin asked, reaching for her water and taking a small sip.
“Oh, I… I pre-ordered and read your book”, Christen explained innocently. “My friend always listens to your podcast and I’d heard the one where you were explaining your six rules and…”
“You were interested?”
Christen nodded. “I wanted to know more. Wanted to see how I could apply it to my life, I suppose”.
“Smart girl”, Tobin drawled and it was the most patronizing thing that had come out of her mouth up until that point.
Christen resisted the urge to roll her eyes. It was easy to forget what an absolute jackass the woman was when she was flirting and flashing that smile. Christen was reminded once again of who she was dealing with here.
“I guess… relationships of mine haven’t always worked out. So, I’m open to trying something new”.
It was Tobin’s turn to nod.
“But enough about what I’ve got going on…” Christen said before taking a slow sip of her wine. “I’d rather talk about you”.
“What do you wanna know?”
“How about… guilty pleasures? Do you have any?”
Tobin sighed in exaggerated exasperation, but there was still amusement in her eyes. “I hate this question.”
“Why?”, Christen asked, in an instantly feeling panicked that she was messing everything up. She’d worked so hard to get to this point, she did not want to ruin it now.
“Because I don’t have guilty pleasures”, Tobin said, sitting back. “I have pleasures. If I enjoy something, I’m unapologetic about it”.
Another eyeroll moment that Christen had to fight. God, she’s so fucking full of herself.
Christen tilted her head. “Fine. What’s a pleasure you wouldn’t normally admit on air?”
Tobin’s gaze flicked over her again, slow and considering. It was like she was undressing Christen with her eyes. She took a dramatic deep breath, then exhaled.
“My favourite kind of films are… Pixar animations”.
Christen gasped dramatically. “No”.
“The older ones like Monsters Inc or Ratatouille, but I’m quite fond of some of the newer ones, too”.
“Oh wow”, Christen laughed. She pressed her heart to her chest, feigning devastation. “Now all the mystery and the lustre is just… gone”.
Tobin just chuckled and shook her head.
Then, they fell into that kind of silence. The kind that hung between them like a slow pull. Tobin was still looking at her, still trying to figure her out. She could see the intrigue in the woman’s eyes. Or was it something else? Had Tobin seen through her plan already?
“You’re… different from the kind of girls who usually listen to my podcasts. What is that?”
Christen shrugged her shoulders. “Guess ‘cos I don’t listen to your podcast – my friend does and… I just happen to hear it. Everything I know about you is completely against my will”.
Tobin chuckled softly. Then she moved.
It was subtle at first. A slow shift forward, an arm resting on the back of Christen’s chair.
“So, Christen from California…”, she murmured, watching her carefully. “What’s your pleasure?”
Christen swallowed. There was an unspoken challenge in Tobin’s tone – almost like what happened next would depend on the answer Christen gave.
Christen let her gaze drop – briefly—to Tobin’s mouth. Then, she smiled.
“I like it all”, she purred.
Tobin huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “Come on”.
Christen blinked, worried she might have screwed it up already. Worried that all that research was for nothing. “Wh-what?”
Tobin was already standing. “I think we can find somewhere even quieter”.
Christen’s stomach tightened. This was supposed to be phase one of her plan. This was what she wanted to happen, and even though she had prepared herself for the eventuality…
She slipped her hand into Tobin’s without thinking.
The second they ducked into the darkened hallway past the main bar, Tobin was on her.
Christen gasped as Tobin’s hands found her waist, her back hitting the cool surface of the wall. She hadn’t been handled like that in a while. And then Tobin kissed her.
God.
Tobin kissed like she knew she was good at it. Like she had nothing to prove and just wanted to enjoy the moment. Enjoy the taste of Christen’s lips. And she kissed with her whole body.
Christen’s fingers gripped Tobin’s jacket, melting away in the moment. She hasn’t kissed anyone since Jessie. She hadn’t felt this kind of passion in almost a year.
Tobin’s hand slid up, grazing her ribcage. Christen shivered.
Tobin must have felt it, because she pulled back. “You okay?”, she asked, worry blazing in her eyes.
“Uh-huh”, Christen nodded.
“Sure?”
Christen huffed a chuckle, tugging her back in by the lapel of her jacket. “Shut up and keep kissing me”.
Tobin chuckled against her lips before kissing her hard again. Kissing her like she was staking her claim. The kind of kiss that made Christen’s toes curl even though she didn’t want them to. She was enjoying it – maybe a little too much.
Tobin moved fast. Her hands were slowly teasing up her back, their bodies pressed together.
“D’you rehearse this in the mirror?”, Christen asked.
“Don’t need practice”, Tobin said with a cocky grin. She dipped her head and kissed near the pulse point in Christen’s neck. Christen hummed in satisfaction – and slight surprise because Tobin had no way of knowing she loved being kissed there and yet she did.
“I love this dress, by the way. Especially the fact that it’s so easy to sneak my hand into”, Tobin practically growled as she palmed at Christen’s thigh. “Bet it’d look even better on the floor”.
Christen pulled away – face flushed, lips swollen, lipstick smudged. Not even Jessie kissed her like that. And despite this being one big ploy to prove what a fake Tobin was, it felt… good… to be desired by a woman again.
“Maybe… we should take this elsewhere?”
Tobin, still pressing kisses along her jaw, murmured, “I was thinking the same—” She stopped because Christen started kissing her neck now, playful bites as her hands started unbuttoning Tobin’s shirt. “Shit… not here”.
Christen pulled back, bit at her lip. “My place?”
“Where do you live at?”
“Upper West Side”, Christen said, and nearly chuckled at the way Tobin’s face fell. The look on her face was one of instant regret mixed with disappointment and frustration.
“Manhattan?”
Christen shrugged innocent. “It’s not that far…”
Tobin sighed. “It’s like an hour…and during peak traffic? Jesus…”
She took a few steps back, but her hands were still on Christen’s waist. She was clearly debating it.
With a final sigh, Tobin shook her head in the negative. “Maybe we should call it a night”.
Christen tried her best to keep her facial expression even. This couldn’t be the end – this was only phase one. She didn’t dress up in this sexy dress for nothing. She didn’t do all that research for nothing. She didn’t make out with Tobin Heath for nothing, goddammit.
“You sure?”, she asked, arms wrapped around Tobin’s waist.
She could see the internal war happening behind those sharp eyes. She could almost hear the debate. Tobin wanted this. Her body wanted this.
Christen moved herself flushed against Tobin’s body again, this time dragging the very tip of her tongue along the column of her neck as one of her hands snakes into the back pocket of Tobin’s pants.
Tobin exhaled sharply. “Fuck it”, she muttered through gritted teeth.
Christen barely had time to react before Tobin was grabbing her hand.
“Come on”, Tobin said like she already hated herself for what she was about to do.
Christen hid a smirk. “Where are we going?”
“My place”, Tobin sighed in frustration.
Christen lit up like a Christmas tree on the inside. Rule One was about to be shattered.
=
Tobin’s apartment was exactly what Christen has imagined – fancy, sleek, but utterly devoid of personality.
Floor-to-ceiling- windows framed the skyline. Minimalist furniture that looked more like a West Elm display than a place where anyone actually lived.
“No shoes”, Tobin said, hopping as she took off her own shoes.
Christen slipped off her heels, thankful for the reprieve. “Nice place”.
Tobin shrugged off her jacket and hung it over the back of the accent chair. “Yeah, I like clean lines”.
Christen smirked as she wandered over to the massive bookshelf that lined one of the walls. She ran her dingers along the spines. “Let’s see what you read… Other than your own writing, of course”.
Tobin watched her with mild curiosity. “Might not like what you find”.
Christen scoffed. “Oh, what’s the worst thing I’ll find?” Her eyes scanned the titles. All non-fictions. Heavy stuff – politics, history, self-help, business books. She blinked at Tobin. “Not a single romance novel?”
Tobin raised a brow. “Not really my thing”.
“Not even a good bodice ripper?”, Christen asked with a grin. “A lustful little number?”
Tobin stalked over to her. “Not interested in reading anything like that”.
Christen hummed, pulling out some business book with a picture of a serious CEO on its cover. “I think you’re just a little scared you might like it. All that yearning, all that passion”.
Tobin gave her a look and stepped closer, effectively closing the distance between them. “I prefer my stories a little more… realistic”. Her hands slid to Christen’s hips.
Christen barely had time to react or come of with some clever retort before Tobin was kissing her – so slow and so deliberate. It took the words out of her mouth and knocked the air out of her.
Tobin tugged at the zipper of her dress. “What do you do for work, Christen?”
Christen breathed out slowly, still reeling from that passionate kiss. It took a few seconds for her brain to register Tobin’s question.
“I’m a—a professor of sociology… It’s… it’s pretty boring”.
Tobin grinned. “I knew you were a smart girl”. She kissed Christen’s neck, slipping the red dress off her shoulders. She hooked an arm around Christen’s waist and pulled her towards the bedroom.
And Christen hadn’t expected any of this.
She knew Tobin would be good at bed – the woman made that very clear on almost every episode of her obnoxious podcast. She had a wealth of experience and no complaints.
But Christen hadn’t expected this kind of heat, this kind of intensity.
Sprawled on Tobin’s bed in her too-cold apartment, Christen was unravelling – losing all control she thought she’d built up on this woman.
Tobin kissed her like she knew her. Like she’d been waiting all her life to kiss her. And Christen kissed back like she was drinking her in.
Tobin’s hands traced fire over bare skin. “You good?”, she asked in a murmur, her rough voice sending a shiver right down Christen’s spine.
“Yeah”, Christen barely managed.
She was more than good – she was clutching at Tobin’s shoulders like a lifeline.
Tobin kissed between the valley of her breasts. “Sure?”
Christen’s laugh was breathless. “Tobin… If I want you to stop I’ll say so, promise”.
Tobin grinned against her skin. “Good”.
She shifted, pressing Christen deeper into the mattress. Her mouth kissed all the way down Christen’s belly – past her bellybutton and then… Then she found a new place to explore.
And fuck, she was thorough. Licking, kissing and tasting like she was trying to commit it all to memory.
Christen’s plan had accounted for the risk of sex. In fact, the plan hinged on sex and on breaking Tobin’s rules using romance instead of casual sex.
But the plan never accounted for this. For Tobin making her feel wanted in a way that had nothing to do with the game she was playing.
Christen arched under her touch – so completely lost in the heat, in the sensation, in Tobin’s voice coaxing more out of her. She couldn’t even make out what Tobin was humming into her skin, the woman’s voice was so far away because all she scared about was the feeling.
Her hands grabbed at the sheets, eyes fluttered, voice strained and breathless as moans escaped her lips. Tobin’s tongue explored, her fingertips pressed into Christen’s thighs.
When Christen finally shattered, Tobin’s name slipped from her lips effortlessly. Tobin, fuck…
Tobin continued her ministrations with her hand even as she made her way back again. She kissed Christen with slick lips. Christen couldn’t help the satisfied hum that escaped from her.
“You’re so responsive”, Tobin spoke into her shoulder. “The way you arched into me… fuck”. She left a biting kiss in Christen’s neck.
Christen managed a small smile, but she was far away.
She had sex. With Tobin Heath.
With the world’s worst podcaster.
The podcaster she hated.
It was like crossing party lines and sleeping with a red-hat wearing bigot. Of course, that was just an exaggerated, but her point still stood.
Tobin had an entirely different view on love and relationships. The things Christen believed in, made her a ‘smooth brain idiot’ in Tobin’s eyes.
And as much as Christen wanted to hate it – hate that she had slept with someone like Tobin – she didn’t hate it.
She turned, found Tobin’s lips and gave her a hot kiss.
After what felt like hours, Christen lied sprawled on Tobin’s expensive sheets, completely blissed out. She couldn’t remember having a night like this in a long time.
Tobin, sitting up beside her, ran a hand through her messy hair and exhaled slowly. She was on her phone, face unreadable. Her voice came out flat. “You gotta go”.
Christen let out a soft, almost incredulous chuckle.
“If you read my book, listen to my podcast then you already know the deal”, Tobin explained, pushing herself off the bed. “I had a great time, and you…” A playful smirk adorned her face. “… you’re a real fox, but… yeah – you gotta go”.
The silence stretched.
Finally, Christen swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her gaze quickly drifted to the pair of diamond earrings she’d taken off before things got too heated. She slipped on her red, lacy underwear, then remembered that her dress was in the living room.
“So, this was fun”, she said as she awkwardly moved past Tobin as she left the bedroom. She found her dress and quickly stepped into it, reached for her purse and hung it off her shoulder.
Tobin was already by the front door.
“I’m… sorry to ask, but… can I maybe have a glass of water?”
“Sure”, Tobin nodded. She moved towards the open plan kitchen, taking two glasses from the dishwasher and grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. “Have to admit, I’m quite parched after all that, too”.
“Maybe you do live up to the hype”, Christen said, trying her best to sound flippant. She wanted Tobin to know what she was a cool girl.
“It’s never false advertising with me”, Tobin smiled cockily as she handed Christen the glass.
Christen barely took a sip before handing the glass back to Tobin. “I should—”
“Yeah”, Tobin nodded. “I already ordered an Uber”.
“Oh, thanks”.
“Least I could do, I reckon”, Tobin smiled as she led Christen to her front door. “This… it was fun. You were fun”.
Christen found her eyes and offered a smile. She leaned in, then caught Tobin off guard with a long, slow, passionate kiss goodnight.
Then, she opened the door and left without saying another word.
=
Christen worried her bottom lip, staring out the window of the car Tobin had called for her. She felt… dirty wasn’t the word. Used, maybe? But maybe that was too harsh of a word, too.
Her mind wandered, and wandered back to Tobin. How did she deal with this feeling? Did she feal guilt over sleeping with women casually? Guilt over the fact that it was all just physical for her? Or did she feel nothing at all? Was she so cold and unfeeling that it didn’t affect her anymore? Had she done it so many times that it came as second nature by now?
She adjusted the strap of her now wrinkly dress. She smelled like her – woodsy and sweet. Tobin Heath’s fingerprints were all over her. And suddenly she was back – back in Tobin’s room and back underneath her warm mouth and skillful tongue. She shivered – from the cold air and her exposed skin and from the memories.
She reached for her cell phone in her sparkly clutch and opened her Notes app. She’ll write it all down in real notebooks when she got home. For now, the phone had to do.
Phase One – Establish Contact
(Initial Assessment)
-Subject presents as highly confident, self-assured, and emotionally detached.
-Has a practiced charm. Effortlessly flirty, but never lets conversations get deep.
-Relies on charm and humour as a defence mechanism.
(Personal Notes)
-She is infuriatingly good at this. It’s clear now why people fall for it.
Christen sighed softly, swallowing down her emotions. She felt a lot. And she was unsure what it all meant. One thing was for certain, though, she was in this. The plan was in motion – and she’d already perfectly executed the first phase. There was no turning back now.