“It’s not just our sex life. It’s all the time. And that’s why I want to tell her. Not that we’re exhibitionists who plan on loving each other up in public. I think Easton would have the world’s first murder aneurysm at just the thought of people seeing me.”
My thoughts jumped to Tripp and his sneaky move with the curtain in the window room.
Maddie regained my attention when she lifted her chin. “I just don’t want to feel like I’m doing something to be embarrassed about. Not with my best friends, at least.” Her gaze darted to me, and she was quick with a sheepish smile. “Not that there’s anything wrong with keeping private things private. I won’t tell her about you. Or Tripp. Or the fact I saw you two leaving Gildedtwicethis week.”
I grimaced. “You were there?”
“It’s the only way to get Easton to go to all the work events he has over the holidays. He attends those, and in exchange, he gets to torture me at Gilded. And since the food at the events is usually pretty good, it’s a win-win for me.” She grabbed her drink. “But like I said, I’m not mentioning you.” She took a sip. “Or Tripp.” Another sip. “Or your two visits to Gilded.” She snuck another headlong glance my way. “Together.”
“Who said it was just two?” I asked even though it was.
“It was more than that? Did you go last night?”
“I was simply making an observation.”
“It was definitely more than that.”
“Stop fishing for gossip.”
Maddie threw herself into full dramatics. “I can’t help it. It’s who I am. You knew this when you became friends with me.”
“You mean when we were literal infants?”
“Fine. You knew this when youstayedfriends with me.”
“Maybe I’m regretting that,” I muttered, but like her dramatics, it was all for show.
“Too late. That blood pact we made in fourth grade to be friends forever is binding for life.”
“It wasn’t a blood pact. We used ketchup.”
“Tomato, blood-ah-to.”
I laughed at my friend.
“Are you two together?” she asked.
I shook my head. “Not like you and Easton.”
I didn’t think I would ever be with someone in that way. So hopelessly devoted and mutually obsessed. Not with my shitty luck.
And, fine, my shitty choices.
“So you’re sex buddies,” she surmised incorrectly.
“Minus the sex.”
“You haven’t…?”
It was my turn for dramatics, and none of them were for show. “Nooooo, and I’m dying.”
“That is surprising.” She drummed her fingers on her chin. “You can be a little, uh, hard to read sometimes. Are you sure he knows you want to?”
“I’ve begged. Literally begged.”
Her blue eyes widened. “And that didn’t work?”
“Nope.”
