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She pulls back, her cheeks already red from her blush. "You can't, it's a girl thing."
My eyes narrow. "A girl thing?"
"She's taking me to clean up my wizard sleeve."
***
I don't know what the hell she means by cleaning up her wizard sleeve so I do what any normal teenage boy would do; I go home, run to my room, open my laptop and Google it. I'm on the third page of Google Images when I feel a hand on my shoulder. "Your mom has that landing strip thing."
I shut my laptop and dry heave. No joke. I run to the bathroom and bend over the toilet, trying to mentally remove my mom's landing strip from all the vaginas I've just seen.
Mark leans against the doorframe with his arms crossed and a smirk on his face.
"You're an asshole."
"I try." He shrugs. "Let me guess, you’re going to call it research?"
I stand up and wipe the spit off my chin. "Lucy—" I cut myself off. "Never mind."
"You sure? All jokes aside, if you need to talk about it, I'm here."
I eye him as I pass, looking for any hint of mockery. Mockery? Is that even a word?
Throwing myself on the bed, I cover my eyes with my arm, and then I tell him.
Everything.
Even about the now infamous clitorusaurus-rex.
He listens the entire time, never interrupting. When I'm done, he lets out a breath with a whoosh. "You're on your own, buddy."
And then he leaves.
I just told him about my girlfriend's vagina-lock and all he does is leave.
"I'm never getting laid."
***
"I have a solution to your problems, Luce," Logan says.
It's been three days since Vaginagate and it's been the major topic of conversation during lunch. Everyone's talking about my girlfriend's vagina, and I haven't even seen it yet.
"What's that?" she asks.
"Liquid courage."
I should tell him to shut up, but he kind of has a point, and I'm not the only one that thinks so. Lucy slowly swivels on my lap, her eyebrow raised in question.
I shrug. We've never gone to parties together. I just assumed it wasn't her thing. Occasionally I'd go out with the boys and have a beer, then leave and find myself on her doorstep. After the fifth time, her dad stopped questioning it.
"What do you think?" she asks.
"I think you should do whatever you want, babe."
-LUCY-
"Run back upstairs and change, girly," Dad says, but he's smiling.
"You're lucky," I tell him. "I'm seventeen and going to my first high school party."
His eyebrows rise. "Are you gonna drink?"
I grab my keys off the counter. "Do you want me to lie?"
"Yes."
"Then no. I'm not drinking."
"That's my girl."
***
Cam's front door opens before I can knock. His mom stands at the entryway with her eyes wide. "You look..."
I grimace. "Whoreish?"
She laughs. "No, hon, you look beautiful."
I look down at myself. I'm not wearing anything too different from what I wear every day. My skirt's a little shorter and my top's a little tighter. Heidi helped me pick them out. I don't know if that's a good thing or not. "Hon," she says again. "I'm just—" She laughs and shakes her head slowly. "You're like a daughter to me, and I just feel like I've watched you grow up, you know? You look like a woman, and I'm just used to my little girl."
Her words cause an ache in my chest, and instantly I'm crying.
She raises her hand to pat my cheek, or so I think, but she's wiping away my tears. "You thinking about your mom?"
I nod, because I don't want to speak. I don't want my words to replace the echo of hers in my mind.
She moves forward and wraps me in her arms. "I couldn't have wished for a better girl for my Cameron."
"What did that asshole do?" Mark’s voice booms from behind her. We pull apart laughing.
"Nothing," Heather says, patting him on the chest. "Let's go." She winks at me. "Cameron's in his room getting ready, and we are going on a date night."
"I hope I get laid," Mark jokes, as they both brush past me.
I run upstairs and open Cam's door without knocking.
And then I freeze.
He's walking out of his bathroom in nothing but boxer shorts—both hands holding the towel, roughly drying his hair. His body is wet, not all over, just on his shoulders. My eyes transfix on a bead of water as it falls slowly down his collarbone, down his chest, past each ridge of his abs. When the hell did he get those?
I try to swallow, but my mouth's too dry. And now, so are my eyes, because I can't blink. I don't want to. I don't want to miss it when the bead of water gets caught in the hair just above the waist of his boxers, and disappears into...
Holy shit.
A gasp catches in my throat.
"Hey," he says, his eyes focused on mine. But only for a moment before they trail down, and down, and then back up. They stop at my breasts, widening as they do. He licks his bottom lip, then slowly runs his teeth across it. The movement so slow, so mesmerizing.
I can't take my eyes off his mouth.
His hand lifts the towel as he wipes his chest. And now my eyes are there, watching him—waiting for his next move. He moves it lower, down to his perfect stomach.
