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"Oh, so who's the liar now?" she teases.
I shrug unapologetically. "It was guy talk, and if I didn't make it seem like I was keeping up, I never would have heard the end of it."
Giggling, she seems to get it. "So, was Carter lying about being a man-whore, too?"
"No. He absolutely has had sex with a phone book’s worth of women."
The things I could tell you, and the amount of times I've walked in on him, is enough to scar me for life. Not to mention the amount of girls we've done together, but I don't think that's a road I want to take Paige down.
"So, who did you lose yours to?" she questions, sounding so fucking innocent.
I cough, choking on air. "What?"
"I told you who I lost mine to. It's only fair."
Fuck. I look over at the yearbook. "That's from our senior year?"
"Mm'hm."
"You need a different one."
"Which one? Junior year?"
I shake my head and speak into the sleeve of my hoodie. "Freshman."
Her smile drops right off her face, and she stares back at me. "You lost your virginity to a senior when we were freshmen?"
"I mean, that was before I knew you and I were a possibility."
It's a good attempt at getting out of it, but she isn't buying it. Instead, she goes back to flipping through the pages. However, I don't miss the snide remark that comes out of her mouth after.
"Carter was definitely not the only man-whore."
And okay, fair.
BY THE SIXTH DAY, I wake up feeling better than I have all week. My headache has mostly subsided, and what hasn't goes away with one of the Excedrin that Carter grabbed from the store. Why he had to buy enough to overdose a small army, I'm not sure, but I'm thankful I have some.
Paige is sleeping peacefully in bed, and I made sure not to wake her as I climbed over her. She's spent almost a week taking care of me. I think it's time she gets taken care of. After all, she's how I was able to get through all of that. I don't know what I would have done if I was stuck with Carter.
I go out into the living room and rummage through the cabinets to find what I need. I may not be entirely skilled at cooking, but I know how to make pancakes. Or at least the just-add-water kind.
Pulling out the electric griddle Paige bought us, I plug it in on the counter and let it heat up while I mix the batter. According to Google, it's the easiest way to make sure they cook evenly. And yes, I Googled how to make pancakes this morning. Don't judge the rich kid.
As the first batch starts cooking, Carter makes his way out of his bedroom.
"Oh, that smells good." He comes over and hovers over my shoulder. "It even looks edible."
"It's for Paige. Not you," I snark.
He snorts. "Yeah, you try giving that girl a tower of pancakes. Watch how fast she punches you in the face for thinking she eats that much."
The thought of how right he is makes me smile. "She is a bit of a handful, isn't she?"
He grabs a stale donut out of a box and takes a giant bite before shrugging. "You and I both know someone worse."
I lock eyes with him, and it only takes a second before I realize exactly who he’s referring to.
"Tye,” we say in unison.
