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"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?"
"About his Prince Albert."
"Oh. Yeah. Sure."
"You promise you won't hold back on details?"
"About the sex? No. I promise. I'll tell you everything."
* * *
I barely manage breakfast or lunch.
I struggle to concentrate on studying for next week's Latin quiz.
My creative writing project remains a blank page.
My Kindle offers no solace. I read the same line twenty times before I give up on concentration and plant in front of the TV.
I can't even think about Grandma. I stare at a dozen ticket options. There are too many airports here and near Grandma's place. LAX or Long Beach or John Wayne. Newark or JFK or La Guardia. Nonstops. One stops. Two stops. Red eyes. Early morning flights. Ones that leave in the afternoon and get in late.
