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A pink blush starts on Kate’s neck, but Janus lets out a loud groan as he opens a wall cupboard and pulls out some wine glasses. I prop myself back against the pale wood cupboards that face out over the island toward the lounge.
“Didn’t we play this game one night in college?” Janus says.
I ignore him and bowl right on in. “Did you know a quarter of all penises are bent when erect?”
“I’ve seen more men’s penises than I care to think of,” mutters Kate, and my mind screeches to a halt as we all turn toward her.
“What?” she says as the pink continues to climb up her neck, and she glances around all our faces. “Hello? Idowork in the ER.”
“But how many erect ones?” I say, raising an eyebrow, and her unrestrained smile bursts through again.
“Not a lot of them are erect when I examine them. Most guys are so terrified of what a medical professional might do to their penis that they—their penises, I mean—shrivel up. Either that or most men have tiny penises.”
Janus and I catch each other’s eyes. I’m sure we’re thinking the exact same thing: We’ve exaggerated our size, and we’ve been very nervous around doctors. Something warm creeps through me. Home was a terrifying place for me, and in this safe apartment with easy company, the kernel that always sits tight inside starts to unwind.
Janus peers into the oven while Jo opens the wine and pours. Alcohol isn’t my drug of choice, so there’s the risk I’ll get drunk embarrassingly fast like I usually do.
“This reminds me of that old joke: Why are women so bad at parking?” Jo says.
“Why?” says Janus, looking up from where he’s examining a pot on the stovetop.
“Because they’ve been lied to about what eight inches looks like their entire lives.”
I snigger at this as Kate says, “Actually, the average length of the erect penis is 5.16 inches.”
Like slow motion in a movie, all three of us turn toward her. I’m thinking:No, that can’t be right. Janus’s nose is scrunched up like the same thing has occurred to him. She grins proudly despite the blush staining her cheeks. She’s so fucking cute.
“What? I had to learn this stuff! I’m glad my medical training is coming in useful—for this game at least,” she says, slugging back her wine.
Janus leans in to kiss Jo. “Aren’t you lucky you’re getting something so much better than average, honey?”
She snaps at him with a dish towel.
“I’m saying nothing,” I say, holding up my hands.
“Yeah, that’s because you’ve got less than me, man.”
I grin at him. “How about we take them out and measure them?”
We did this one drunken night in college, and my memory was that I won by an eighth of an inch. The girl we were with was adjudicating, and for some reason she wanted to go to bed with me rather than Janus; the first and only time that’s happened.
“I wouldn’t mind judging that. Sounds like the perfect Friday night, measuring two hot guys’ penises,” Kate says, and even though this conversation is embarrassing her, she’s going down this road farther than any of us. The risks she’s taking here … I shake my head.
Wait a moment, she thinks I’m hot?
“Isn’t it penii?” Jo chips in.
“What is the collective noun for penises?” Kate adds.
Janus whips out his phone and sips his wine and scrolls then snorts. “A clutch?”
“No way,” I say, peering over his shoulder.
Janus opens more windows and types something in. “Okay, here’s another fact: There are seven calories in a teaspoon of semen.”
Jo shrieks in disgust. “Urgh, gross! Who started this game?”
“Glad to hear I’m not risking my diet on a regular basis,” Kate says, her flush subsiding somewhat. But now I’m riveted by the idea of her giving oral sex to someone, that someone being me. Of grabbing on to that silky hair while she …Woah, woah!Knock it off!I surreptitiously adjust my jeans. Does this mean she’s with someone or having a lot of booty calls? My stomach plummets.
