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"A slut in training?"
"No. A woman who knows what she wants."
My glance shifts upstairs, toward Brendon's room. "True."
"I know I've told you a million times, but don't let anyone tell you what you want is wrong. Not me. Not Mr. Brooding Bad Boy. Not your teachers. And not Dean. If you're into freaky shit—"
"Like what?"
"I dunno. Having your toes sucked. Dressing like a baby. There are tons of fetishes. And it's always the quiet ones. Like Brendon. He's into whips and chains and all that stuff. I've heard the guys talking about it a million times."
"Oh?" God, my cheeks are burning.
"Don't tell me I scared you. I mean, you're getting hand jobs in—" She gasps. "Did this happen at karaoke."
"Maybe."
"Oh my God. This is what I get for touching up my makeup in that shitty bathroom with no light." She shakes her head with regret. "I could have seen the signs."
"Oh. Well. It was fast."
"Yeah? He's that good?"
"Better."
"You know he has that piercing. Did you see it? Tell me you saw it."
"No. It was just him."
"Dean's a gentleman?"
"I guess so."
"Are you into it?"
"Huh?"
"The piercing."
"Oh. Maybe."
She laughs. "Oh my God, Kinky Kaylee! You're into it."
"What? No. I... I mean, sorta."
"So, when are you—" She adopts Dean's I'm fucking with you voice. "Popping that cherry?"
"Tomorrow." He said tomorrow. I'm demanding tomorrow.
Her jaw drops. "Already? We're not prepared. We need
makeup. And lingerie. And I need to go over this with you. You're not gonna have some shitty first time. You're going to come, even if you have to explain it to him."
"Is it that serious?"
"Hell yeah." She turns back to the batter and scoops a spoonful onto the pan. "Good thing I have you all night. And after we'll get ice cream and you'll tell me if the rumors are true."
"Huh?"
