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Ryan’s expression sticks on Dean. It’s like he’s a sniper and he’s lining up the perfect forehead shot. “Never have I ever lied to a woman about being in love with her.”
Dean holds his ground. “You looking at me?”
“Yeah.” Ryan stares back at his brother. “You’re looking awfully sober.”
“I don’t have to lie about that shit. I’ve got a unique charm,” Dean says.
Leighton laughs. “Okay.”
Walker joins her.
Dean looks to Emma and me. “Back me up, ladies. You’d do me, right?”
Emma laughs. “I like quiet guys.”
He mimes being stabbed in the gut.
“And you, Kay?” Dean’s gaze flits to Brendon. He’s reveling in this too.
I press my lips together. According to Walker, everyone knows. Which means Dean knows too.
This is an opportunity.
I smile back at Dean. “You have a certain charisma.”
Dean’s smile gets even smugger. “Told you.”
Ryan shakes his head. “It’s pity. That’s it. She feels sorry for you.”
“Yeah? Want to hit the clubs and see who’s got more charisma?” Dean’s voice is a challenge. A playful challenge, but still.
“No.” Ryan just stops himself from rolling his eyes. “I have shit to do.”
I rest my cup on my thigh and focus all my energy on the amber liquid. This is supposed to be a fun game. The point is getting your friends drunk. That’s it.
I hang back for a few more rounds, laughing as the guys take shots at each other. Never have I ever used “That’s nice ink” as a pick-up line.
Never have I ever dyed my hair.
Never have I ever worn eyeliner.
Then Dean is standing.
Well, trying to stand. He’s well past tipsy.
He surveys the room with the same sniper-like precision as Ryan.
He looks to Brendon. Then to me.
“This may be a suicide mission, but I don’t care.” He holds up his glass. “Never have I ever had sex.”
My fingers slip.
Plastic bounces off the hardwood.
Then my drink is spilling on the floor.
And my blush is spreading all the way to my chest.
Everyone is looking at me.
And they know. I can see it in their faces. They know I’m a virgin.
They know I’m head over heels for Brendon.
They know it’s never going to happen.
“I… Um… I’ll get a towel,” I say.
“I’ve got it.” Ryan shoots his brother a death glare.
“What?” Dean tosses his empty cup to the floor. He pulls his wallet from his jeans, pulls a hundred-dollar bill from it, and slaps it into Brendon’s hands. “That’s yours.”
Brendon stares daggers, but he takes the money.
He bet Dean I was a virgin.
“Fuck you.” Brendon pushes himself to his feet.
“It was your idea to bet,” Dean says.
“Only ’cause you wouldn’t shut the fuck up.” Brendon’s voice is angry.
It’s never angry.
Leighton clears her throat. “It’s no big deal, Kaylee. You’re better off waiting. I didn’t have good sex until I was twenty-one. High school guys can’t fuck for shit.”
Dean turns to me. “Being a slut is overrated.”
“Can I get that in writing?” Walker asks.
“Yeah. I’d like to check the court record on that.” Ryan tosses a towel on the spill.
“Not everybody is as soulless and empty as I am,” Dean says.
Em looks to me. She mouths are you okay?
No. Yes. Maybe.
What the fuck is Brendon doing betting his friends I’m a virgin?
“I think it’s great you’re waiting for someone special, Kaylee.” Dean slurs his words. “But if you’re not.” He motions to the private suite in the back. The one reserved for especially intimate tattoos. “I’m more than happy to pop that cherry for you. I’ll show you the night of your life.”
“Right.” I plaster on a smile. I know Dean is joking. I can tell he’s trying to get a rise out of Brendon.
But it’s not funny.
It’s not funny that everyone is laughing about the inexperienced girl with a crush on the guy way out of her league.
I push myself to my feet. “Excuse me. I’m going to get some air.” I reach for the door.
Walker laughs. “Dean, you’re that repulsive.”
The door swings shut.
A tear rolls down my cheek. Then another.
I move around the corner. Find a spot against the wall—one where no one can see me—and I slink to my knees.
Tears stain my skin.
This is all fucked.
I can’t even enjoy a party.
I can’t enjoy anything.
I’m a broken freak. I’ll always be a broken freak.
Why would Brendon want me anyway? He has his pick of any nice, normal girl. Plenty who are prettier, smarter, funnier, bolder than I am.
I suck a breath through my teeth and let out a slow exhale. It does nothing to ease the tension in my shoulders. Or back. These heels are awful. How does Emma wear these things all the time?
The bell rings as the shop door opens.
Steady footsteps move toward me.
Then it’s Brendon’s voice flowing into my ears. “Dean’s an asshole.”
I press my fingers into my thighs. “It takes two people to bet.”
Brendon stops next to me and drops to one knee. “I’m sorry, Kay.”
