Terlahir Kembali: Menyelamatkan Anakku Dari Sahabatku

"Are you still holding on to that book?" My best friend Milo asked, well she did not so much as ask, but yell the words instead. "By that I mean are you still jerking- "

"Shhhhh!" I leapt from my seat, which was across from hers, and covered her mouth with my hand. The white plastic table between us shook jerkily against my body, and our drinks almost spilt. Yes, she was drunk. Yes, I was also drunk. But the only difference was that I was not drunk enough to let the whole world know that I was masturbating to my favourite book!

We were outside a small open bar and restaurant that served my best friend's microbrew.

Milo had sold her recipe of the brew exclusively to them so that they would gain more customers and popularity. But, genuinely, I am convinced that she sold it to them because she liked one of the chefs.

Aruto, he was handsome and roguish. Pantie-drop roguish. He had the kind of low voice that left your tummy unsettled.

If he had also asked me to sell him my lifelong recipe, I'm not sure that I would have turned down the offer, but then again, As Milo had so crudely put it, I hadn't been laid in a while.

My best friend Milossa, I am not just saying this because I am biased, is gorgeous. She has caramel hair that she cut into a straight bob, her left eye is pink, and the other is the deepest shade of blue that I had ever known existed. Naturally, she was bullied as a child for this. But, I have never seen her back away from a fight. So, I am adding that quality to her beauty.

"Annabelle, let me get you laid!" She said then took a swig of her beer. "Give me your permission, and I will be your fairy fuck mother so that you never have to use a book again!"

Despite her vulgar tone, Milo is a surprisingly good lawyer. We are partners in the same firm, and when we were not gossiping over scandalous cases or ogling men, we were working up a sweat at the local pole dancing gym. Professionally ogling the men, of course.

Our firm took off in the modelling direction. It all began with one of those cases where we helped the founder of a modelling agency, and he hired us as his exclusive lawyers.

It was a genuinely unconventional direction, but Milo and I were more liberal than others, perhaps that was why we always felt drawn to one another. That and we were an unusually happy and positive pair. Sometimes, I felt as though we had known each other from our previous lives because of how well we got along.

Even on this Friday night, outside a dingy shop, with delicious food and beer served on foldable chairs and wobbly plastic tables, we still felt like queens who were living it up under the stars.

The neighbourhood had houses that were close enough to each other that even the slightest noise would wake the person living next to them, provided that they did not have soundproof walls, of course. But that was the reason that the only thing lacking from the restaurant was music.

"I will get laid, when the time is right, I mean it's not like I have men lining outside my door waiting to fuck me!" I said.

"Uh, helloo! that is exactly what I am offering, Men lining up outside your door!" Milo proclaimed, "How long has it been anyway? I swear, I think you have cobwebs up there, you'd better go to a doctor." Milo laughed, and I kicked her under the table with my boots.

"Ouch! What? I am showing genuine concern. Maybe some bats live up there now?" She suggested then finished the beer in her glass.

"Oh, har har!" I mocked having given up on trying to control her volume.

I didn't have a painful breakup or a bad relationship experience to use as my excuse. I couldn't even blame it on my work. It's just that after a while of not having sex, you start to get more conscious about the act. Worst case scenario you develop the virgin syndrome.

The 'virgin syndrome' is a disease, Milo and I had come up with last year. It's basically that nagging feeling that the man you lost your virginity to is the 'one' especially when he does not feel the same, or instead, in this case, that, I might fall for the first person that I have sex with after this hiatus. We did not call it that name out of spite, but instead because we had been through the so-called syndrome. We both had fallen for our 'ones', and sadly their rejection had left us both disillusioned to the notion of 'Mr Rights.'

Plus as a cherry on top, because it's been ages, I currently doubt my level of sexpertise. So perhaps there was more of insecurity in my postponing her request.

Perhaps I should give her a shot to set me up?

"Okay, maybe we can start with a blind date," I said to her. Maybe it was time I stop making excuses and just go out there. I might be rusty to start, but…wasn't sex and relationships like riding a bike?

"Wait? Are you serious?! Oh my God, Annabelle, you will not regret this! I will definitely set you up with a great guy!" Milo said then rubbed her shoulders.

Despite the warmth of the alcohol and our slightly…okay more than slightly inebriated state, it was a cold night, and the tank tops we both had on were not doing us any favours.

Milo's phone rang, interrupting my thoughts, and she frowned.

"Shit!" Milo cursed.

"What?" I asked, mildly curious.

"It's Debbie, I told her to call me if anything that requires our attention in the office pops up," Milo explained then answered the call.

"Hey Debbie?" she said, leaning away from the table to continue with the conversation.

I fiddled with my jeans to keep busy then eventually sunk on my chair and finished my drink.

I signalled a waiter, who looked as though he wanted something to do, and he cleared our table.

"Could you get this round?" Milo mouthed to me before returning to the call, and I nodded.

I pulled out my wallet from my bag and dropped a few notes on the table. Just as I had returned the wallet to my bag, the hot chef, Aruto, walked out, holding a garbage bag.

"Ladies." He greeted us, smiling.

I swear my legs automatically squeezed themselves shut, perhaps that was my ego's way of asking me not to jump the innocent man.

He had long, deep brown hair that he had tied in a low bun, big brown eyes and the most seductive lips I had had the pleasure of seeing hold a smile. He was dressed in a white chefs uniform that seemed to stir up some new kinks in me.

-Marry me!- My thoughts rang.

"Hey, Aruto! How are things at the restaurant?" I asked, instead.

That was my feeble attempt at keeping my mind away from his muscular frame and instead, keeping him, the sober party in this conversation, in charge of directing the conversation, before I said something embarrassing.

"Great! Thanks to the microbrew! Leaving already?" he asked as he moved closer to me with the trash bag in hand. His warm brown eyes caressed, or at least I felt like they did, my body and he raked his gaze slowly up and down my frame.

I have never been self-conscious about my looks, with a slender frame, deep red hair and green eyes with long lashes, a heart-shaped face with doe eyes, I knew that I was beautiful. I mean, I did have a rough time during puberty, but I got there eventually.

Under Aruto's gaze, I felt weirdly nervous, as though I lacked something that I should have, that he was looking for.

"What do you mean 'Already'? You're literally taking the trash out because It's almost closing time," I responded, then cleared my throat.

"Almost, but we aren't quite there yet." He drawled then licked his lips. My gaze immediately left his eyes and followed the motion his tongue made as it moistened his lips.

"Aruto, are you leading us on?" Milo interrupted, breaking my focus. Her tone was playful as she said the words then hung up her phone.

"I would never do that." He placed a hand on his chest as though he was pledging his loyalty.

"I'll bet," Milo said dismissively then stood. "Annabelle, we have a case tomorrow."

"What?" I asked as I followed her cue to stand.

Aruto looked as though he wanted to say more, but I chose to cut him short and nod a curt goodbye. This is because I didn't entirely trust myself to be alone with him, and knowing Milo, she would probably leave us alone to chat then rush home alone.

Milo hated drinking if the next day was scheduled, because one, and probably the most important one, Milo was superstitious. Two, which should be number one but isn't, Milo got terrible hangovers.