Chapter 2 Sex is Easier Than Love

Jade woke to sunlight bleeding through the blinds like liquid gold, warm and too bright. She blinked against it, momentarily disoriented by the stillness of her bedroom. No soft snore on the other side of the bed. No arm thrown carelessly over her waist. No faint scent of his cologne clinging to the sheets.

Just silence. Clean. Sterile. Free.

She stretched slowly, her limbs heavy from sleep and the emotional drain of the night before. Her muscles ached like she'd run a marathon through fire-except she had. The fire of ending something familiar. Of cutting off the parts of herself still curled around Damon's memory.

The air felt different now. Lighter.

She rolled over and reached for her phone. Two missed calls from Lexie. Three texts.

**Lexie:** *"Bitch, I know you're still in bed."*

**Lexie:** *"I'm picking you up at noon. Don't argue."*

**Lexie:** *"You're getting laid this month, I swear it. You're too hot to be this sad."*

Jade groaned and buried her face into her pillow, laughing despite herself. Lexie was relentless. Sharp as glass, loyal as hell, and always two steps ahead of whatever drama Jade tried to avoid.

But she wasn't wrong. Jade didn't need to wallow anymore. Not in Damon. Not in pity.

She rolled out of bed and shuffled into the bathroom. Her hair was a tangled mess, her skin a shade paler than usual, but there was something in her eyes this morning-a flicker of something fierce.

She brushed her teeth, tied her hair back, and stripped off her sleep shirt. She turned on the shower and stepped into the steam, letting the water beat against her skin like rain against a rooftop. Washing away whatever pieces of Damon might've lingered on her body.

By the time Lexie buzzed at the front door, Jade was dressed in high-waisted jeans, a black bodysuit, and a leather jacket. Her makeup was sharp. Her lips painted deep red. Her eyes rimmed in dark defiance.

Lexie took one look at her and grinned. "There she is."

Jade smirked. "I'm alive. Barely."

Lexie handed her an iced coffee and a green juice. "You get both. One's for survival, the other's for the hangover we're gonna earn tonight."

Jade raised a brow. "What's the plan?"

"Brunch. Then mani-pedis. Then we buy you a dress so short it could pass for a napkin. Then we go out."

Jade arched a brow higher. "To meet who?"

"Who cares? Someone who doesn't cheat, hopefully. Or at least someone hot enough to make you forget that walking disappointment you used to call a man."

Jade laughed harder than she had in weeks.

They hit their favorite brunch spot in SoMa, where the mimosas flowed like they were being poured by gods with no sense of restraint. Lexie recounted the latest disasters in her dating life-two Tinder boys, one accidental date with her yoga instructor, and a man who claimed to be a "sapiosexual" but couldn't spell "restaurant."

"Maybe I should just get a vibrator and adopt a cat," Lexie said, sipping her fourth mimosa.

"You already have three vibrators and a cat," Jade reminded her.

"Yeah, but I can upgrade."

Jade shook her head, laughing, and for the first time in what felt like years, it didn't feel forced.

They walked through boutique stores after brunch, fingers trailing over silk and satin, lace and leather. Lexie held up a red dress with a plunging neckline.

"This one," she said, "is for revenge."

Jade held it against her body and stared at herself in the mirror. She saw curves. Strength. Sensuality. And the beginning of something she couldn't name yet.

She bought the dress.

That night, they got ready together in Lexie's apartment, music blasting, drinks poured. Jade lined her eyes with kohl and slipped into the red dress like it was armor. Lexie wore gold sequins and a devil's grin.

They walked into the club like they owned it.

The bass thudded through her chest, bodies pressed together on the dance floor, and the world felt hot and electric and full of reckless possibility. Jade moved without thinking, without planning. Her body found rhythm, her hips swaying to the beat, sweat clinging to her spine.

Eyes followed her. Men turned. One in particular caught her attention-tall, broad shoulders, dark stubble, lips like trouble. He stood at the bar, watching her with a look that was half hunger, half worship.

She met his eyes. Held them. Dared him to come closer.

He did.

"Can I buy you a drink?" he asked, voice low, smooth.

Jade smiled, lips curling into something dangerous. "That depends. Are you married? In a relationship? Secretly dating my coworker?"

He blinked, then grinned. "No. Single. Very single."

"Then maybe."

They talked over drinks. His name was Dean. He worked in finance, had a dog named Murphy, and a scar on his jaw from a childhood bike accident. He was funny, confident, and had just enough darkness in his eyes to make her curious.

But Jade wasn't looking for a connection. She wasn't looking for laughter or meaning or shared dreams over candlelight. She wanted distraction. Escape. Control.

So when he asked if she wanted to get out of there, she said yes.

Lexie raised a brow as Jade grabbed her clutch and mouthed, *you okay?*

Jade nodded once. **Yes.**

Dean's apartment was three blocks away. Clean, minimalist, masculine. He poured her a whiskey, neat, and they stood on his balcony for a moment, the cool breeze brushing against her bare legs.

He touched her carefully at first. Hand grazing her hip. Eyes asking silent questions. But Jade didn't want careful. She didn't want questions.

She kissed him hard.

And that was the end of the talking.

They tumbled onto his bed in a tangle of hands and mouths, skin against skin. She let him explore her body, find the places Damon used to touch without appreciation. She closed her eyes and let herself forget-just for tonight.

And for a while, it worked.

Afterwards, Dean dozed beside her, a lazy arm draped over her waist. His breathing slowed, lips parted.

But Jade lay awake, staring at the ceiling, heart thudding.

She didn't feel sad.

She didn't feel guilty.

She didn't feel used.

She felt powerful.

This wasn't love.

This wasn't longing.

It was release.

And she'd needed it more than she realized.

She slipped out of bed, pulled her dress back on, and walked barefoot to the window. The city was still awake-cars humming, lights glowing, lives unfolding in high-rise apartments just like this one.

Somewhere out there, Damon might be alone in a bed he used to share with her. Maybe he was thinking of her. Maybe he was pretending he didn't care.

She didn't care either. Not anymore.

She wasn't broken.

She wasn't heartless.

She was **done**.

Jade grabbed her heels, kissed Dean's cheek gently, and let herself out into the night without a word.

She didn't owe anyone an explanation.

Not anymore.

---

*No feelings,* she thought, walking down the quiet street, head high, heels in hand.

*Just sex.*

And for the first time in a long time,

*that was enough.*