“Was he, like, your first crush or something? Did you want to hold hands and shit?”
She takes a break from scrubbing my skin, and I use the opportunity to look at her. Her entire face is red, and her lip is between her teeth. She’s pretty, maybe even beautiful under the day-old makeup. She’s exactly what Lance’s type would be if he took a time out from fucking everyone with a *: petite with strawberry blond hair, freckles, and soft curves.
“He was! Holy shit.” I can’t believe I’m right. “How does he not remember you?”
“It wasn’t like that. And it was ten years ago. He was two grades higher. I have an older sister. I tagged along to a high school party and there was, like, that game, you know? Seven Minutes in Heaven or whatever it’s called?” She buries her face in her hands. “Oh my God. This is so embarrassing. I’m shutting up now.”
I sit up, totally interested. This is like one of those terrible teen sitcoms, but real. I love that shit. “Did you fuck him?”
She drops her hands. “I was twelve!”
“Right. That’d be kinda slutty, huh?”
She punches me in the shoulder.
“So did he feel you up?”
“No!”
“Really? I would’ve given my right nut to feel up a chick when I was that age. I didn’t get my hands on a set of naked tits until I was sixteen.”
“Seriously?”
“Truth.” I make a fist and tap over my heart twice.
“Wow. Well, I guess you’ve made up for that, haven’t you?”
“Yeah. Probably more than I needed to.”
She pushes my shoulder, and I lie back down on the floor so she can finish rubbing the stupid dick off.
“So do they call you Buck because you walk around naked all the time?” she asks.
“Nope. I had bad teeth as a kid.”
“Oh. That’s mean.”
“Kids are assholes. The nickname stuck, and after a while I didn’t care anymore. My teeth are perfect now, but none of the ones in the front are real.”
“What happened?”
“I got a puck in the face playing street hockey.”
She sucks in a breath. “That must have hurt.”
“Lots of things hurt. They were gonna put braces on me, but then they didn’t have to. I got these titanium implants, instead. They give you good drugs when they put those fuckers in. Anyway the accident fixed my teeth in the end, so I guess the pain was worth it.”
“That’s a lot of pain for a nice smile. I hope you wear a cage now.” She wipes my forehead one last time. “Okay. It looks like you’re dick free.”
I sit up. “Thanks for taking care of that.”
“No problem.”
I stand and extend a hand to help her up.
“You’re a lot different than I thought you’d be.”
“Is that good or bad?”
She smiles. “It’s good. You’re nice.”
Lance yells for me to come outside. When Poppy doesn’t make a move to follow me, I pause. “Aren’t you coming?”
“I need to use the bathroom, wash all this stuff off my hands. I smell like a fruit salad.”
“Okay. See you in a few.” I grab the shake Natasha made, the bag of rice with my phone, and the charger and go outside, where Lance and Randy are already in the pool. I plug in the phone near the barbeque, check to see if it’s working—it isn’t—and down my shake.
Lance looks like he’s having trouble keeping up. Randy seems to be doing okay, though. I jump in, dunking my head and rubbing my hands over my face to wash off the residual hand sanitizer and the artificial-fruit smell.
“Took you long enough,” Lance says through heavy breaths.
“No thanks to you, dickface.”
“Shut up, both of you.” Natasha blows her whistle. I hate that thing. “Miller, suicides in the shallow end. I want twenty.”
Lance grins and gives me a thumbs up.
Natasha points to him. “You too, Lance Romance.”
At least I’m not alone in hell this morning.
CHAPTER THREE
ALL THE HONEYS IN THE HOUSE