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And she does.
She sends me the photographic evidence too.
She tortures me as well as I torture her.
"Imogen is smart, right?" Dare asks from the video-call. "I mean, not smart enough to find a better guy—"
She moves up the stairs.
He fails to hold on to his lightness. "I'll ask her."
Really? "You want to tell her you…"
"Yeah," he says.
She spots the call and whisperssorry, I'll wait.
I motion come here. "No, Dare wants to talk to you."
"Really? How sweet." She moves to the desk and leans forward, so her cleavage spills from her shirt.
He tries to look away.
I don't.
"Hey, Dare." She catches the, uh, oversight, but she doesn't correct it. She winks at me and slides into my lap. "How's Spain?"
"Hot," he says.
"Does Barcelona really look like San Diego?" she asks.
He makes an ugh sound. Like Valeria, he's already sick of the topic. "Some parts, yeah. The harbor. How's Tricky?"
"You didn't ask him?" she asks.
"In bed," he says. "He playing his A-game?"
She laughs. "Yeah. We have plans after this, actually."
"He mentioned that," Dare says.
I pull her closer.
Again, she laughs, but this time she tries to shift her focus to Dare. "Is this a friendly hello or…?"
"You're a girl," he says.
"A woman, yes, but I don't speak for all of us," she says.
"Still. You study psychology. And you're smart," he says.
"I try," she says.
He looks away from the camera as his cheeks flush. "I have a situation."
"What kind?" she asks.
"Val, she… she walked in on me."
