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“A generalisation that includes you.”
“It does not. How many times have you been arrested?”
“Eighteen. And it does include you. Go on, Barlow. Try on some honesty for once.”
She rolled over to look at me. “Eighteen?”
Why had I brought this up? Was this going to be like the promise conversation where I told her the truth and she got grumpy about it?
“Seven times actually charged. Hauled in for questioning a lot more.”
Then she surprised me entirely.
“Would you be so forthcoming if I asked you how many girls you’ve hooked up with?”
I felt my eyes narrow as I tried to work out what her angle was here, so I tried to keep it light. “Will that have any bearing on you admitting you think I’m hot?”
“For now, let’s just assume I’m curious.”
“Quid pro quo, Clarice.”
“What do you want to know in return?”
“How many guys you’ve been with.”
“Not nearly as many girls as you.”
“All right, let’s make it easier. How many guys have you kissed?”
She sucked in a breath. “Five?” she said uncertainly.
“You don’t sound so sure…”
She frowned at me and I loved it. “Five,” she said more certainly.
I nodded. “I would guess I’ve been with…” Fuck. Was I going to do this? “You really want to know, Barlow?”
She bit her lip before she nodded, and I desperately wanted to know what she was thinking. “Yes, I want to know.”
Jesus, I was actually going to do this. “Close to thirty, I think.”
If she was surprised or shocked or horrified, she hid it well. “Now who doesn’t sound sure?”
“I don’t exactly keep a list or anything.”
“And this was kissing? Sex? What?”
“I don’t have sex with all of them.” It seemed very important that she know.
She looked at me a moment and then rolled over to look at the sky.
My heart stuttered in my chest and my hands felt restless. Had I just pushed her away?
“Barlow?”
“Lombardi?”
“To be fair, you knew I was a slut.”
