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“Claire.” I chuckled. “Stop.”
“She’s serious,” Lizzie informed me. “She’s afraid of the D.”
“It’s true,” Claire stated without an ounce of embarrassment. “I’ve only kissed one boy—Jamie Kelleher. We were going out for six weeks in second year, and when he tried to push my hand down the front of his jeans at the school disco, I screamed at him.”
“You didn’t,” I gasped.
“Oh, she did,” Lizzie replied. “At the top of her lungs. Caused a right scene at the disco.”
“I panicked,” Claire defended, grinning sheepishly. “I didn’t want to touch his penis.”
“What happened?”
“He called me a frigit bitch and broke up with me right there on the dance floor in front of the entire school,” she replied.
“What a creep,” I spat out.
“It’s okay,” Lizzie interjected. “Claire got her own back on him, didn’t you?”
“Not intentionally,” she objected.
“Oh, come off it.” Lizzie rolled her eyes. “You knew exactly what he would do when you went crying to him.”
“Who?” I asked. “What did you do?”
Lizzie smirked. “She went running to her shadow.”
I arched a brow. “Who?”
“Gibsie,” Lizzie filled in.
“Oh my god.” My eyes lit up. “What did he do?”
“What do you think he did?” Lizzie shot back. “He jumped in to defend her honor.”
“He didn’t!”
“He did,” Claire chirped gleefully.
“He broke Jamie’s nose,” Lizzie added.
Claire sighed happily. “It was epic.”
“You could’ve come to me,” Lizzie said. “I would’ve gladly kneed that eejit in the balls on your behalf—”
Claire’s bedroom door burst inward then, startling all three of us.
“Oh my god,” Claire shrieked, tossing a pillow at the tall blond boy who had invaded her privacy.
“I have a problem!” Gibsie announced, catching the pillow midair.
“Gerard!” Claire hissed, glaring. “Have you ever heard of knocking?”
“There’s no time,” he replied. “I need your help, babe.”
“I’m not your babe,” Claire grumbled and tossed another pillow at him. “What if I had been naked in here?”
“Then I would die a happy man,” he retorted as the second pillow smacked against his chest. “It’s the cat.”
