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He smiles, reveling in the attention. "With pleasure." He turns to me. "Chloe, truth or dare."
My head fills with ideas.
A dare to kiss him.
To flash him.
To touch him.
God, I want to touch him.
And to slap the smarmy smile from his face.
He did call me by my name.
Maybe there's some shred of decency behind his party boy façade.
Or maybe that's my hormones talking.
Either way.
I adopt his aloof posture. Watch clouds roll over the skylight. Watch the wavy lines of the pool bounce off the sliding glass door. Watch a dozen people turn their attention to me.
Deep breath. Slow exhale. "Truth."
His blue eyes sparkle as his smile spreads over his cheeks. "Are you a virgin?"
My cheeks flush.
My chest too.
Fuck Dean.
He must know I am.
Everyone at school knows.
I'm the weird loner who spends lunch drawing in her sketchbook.
Guys aren't interested.
Not that any guys appeal. The guy who tortures me is the only one I want.
Why am I here?
I step backward. Dig my heel into the soft carpet. My instincts scream leave, but I can't do that.
I'm not embarrassed of my inexperience.
I'm not letting him rattle me.
I'm not letting his friends think I'm some loser ashamed of her decisions.
"Yes." I shoot Dean my most serene smile. "I have standards. I'm sure that's hard for you to imagine."
He scratches his head. "Standards. Never heard of those."
His friends laugh.
