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Connor slurs his words. “Hey, man. I have a question.”
“Okay?”
“What has a small dick and hangs down?”
“What?”
“A bat.”
“And…?”
Everyone watches the conversation, their heads moving from side to side.
Connor says, “What has a big dick and hangs up?”
“What?” Mitch responds.
Connor hangs up, and the room fills with the kind of laughter that comes with drunken idiots and stupid jokes. “Confirm or deny, Ava?” Oscar asks.
“I mean, I don’t have a lot of sources, but I’d say it’s pretty fucking big.”
“Burn!” Mitch yells, looking at Rhys.
And I’m too late to realize what I’ve just said. “No, that’s not what I—”
Connor covers my mouth with his palm. “That’s absolutely what she meant.”
Rhys glares at Connor. One second. Two. Then he busts out a laugh. “Thank god you’re finally getting laid. We’d all started calling you Mary behind your back.”
“Mary?” Connor asks, confused as he turns to me for answers.
“Virgin Mary.”
“Ohhh.” He nods, slowly, his lids heavy.
“How was your first time?” Oscar asks him, and I don’t know how we got to this conversation. Is this what guys talk about?
Connor says, “The first six seconds, I was kind of nervous. But the last six… that was fucking money!”
I use his bicep to block my cackle, but I’m the only one who tries to keep it together. Everyone else has lost it. “I need another drink,” I announce.
Connor stands up. “I got you.”
I get to my feet. “I’ll come with.”
In the corner of the room, a bar cart is set up with as many different spirits as you’d like. Connor grabs a bottle of tequila and a few packets of salt, plus some lemon wedges. He turns to me, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. Then he steps forward, his mouth to my ear. “Would salt hurt on your pus—”
“Connor!”
He ignores me, moves closer again until his front’s pressed against mine. “Because I could lick that all night.” He puts all the things back on the cart and leans against a wall, tugging on my top until I’m standing between his legs. Dipping his head, he kisses my neck, his lips parted, tongue leaving a trail of wetness across my jaw until his mouth finds mine. His hand slides down my back, resting on my ass. He squeezes once. Hard. And I jerk against his touch, pulling away. Eyebrows raised, he stares me down, taunting, teasing. “You’re very handsy when you’ve been drinking,” I say through a giggle.
“I can’t help it. You’re hot.” He kisses me again, his tongue soft when he uses it to part my lips. I tilt my head, get lost in the moment with him. Minutes pass, and I can feel the heat start burning inside me, feel his hardness press against my stomach. He pulls away before I’m ready, his eyes on mine. “Do you think you’d be interested in me if you still lived in a house like this?”
“And that’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever said.”
“Is it, though?”
“My mom was in the military, Connor. It doesn’t pay shit, obviously. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be in the situation we’re in. The house was the only thing her parents left her, and I wasn’t raised like”—I circle a finger in the air—“this.”
