Chapter 13
AM I JUST HIS LOCAL HOOK-UP?
Andie
The Juicery always smells incredibly fruity: a damp, syrupy undertone to every surface, even the air, as if every smoothie ever blended here still haunts the room.
It’s late afternoon, slow enough that the blender only roars every couple of minutes, but loud enough that the four of us can talk without worrying about being overheard.
Stringy pendant lights dangle at uneven heights above the round tables, and the sticky rings on the table reflect our faces in little warped ovals.
The usual: Stella, Mary Kate, Kayleigh, and me, slouched in the corner booth where the bench seat is permanently canted to one side, like the juice bar was built on a fault line.
Our drinks sweat into puddles on napkins, and the only sign that finals are a week away is the open laptops blinking blue on the tables around us.
Our table is all chaos: two tote bags, a lopsided paper tray of cold fries, a spiral notebook with “Endgame Bracket” scrawled on the cover, and the faint whiff of coconut-scented hand cream from one of the girls.
“So where are we with our fun little bet?” Stella asks with a wicked grin. “Kayleigh, you want to go first?”
Our pretty blonde friend rolls her eyes, but agrees.
She’s got her elbows on the table and her fingers wound in the straw wrapper, twisting it into a cord tight enough to strangle a hamster.
Her voice, when she finally speaks, is pitched low, like she’s about to let us in on a huge secret.
“Okay, girls, here’s my update: my mom’s getting remarried next week, and my stepbrother is flying in from San Francisco.
He’s only thirty-three, and he’s basically—” she glances at Stella for the proper word, “—a douche, but, like, a billionaire douche?”
Stella giggles, but it’s not mean, just an “I’ve seen this show” kind of sound.
Kayleigh leans in. “I think I can seduce him. Or at least, you know, give it a college try.”
She finishes winding the straw wrapper, then splits it in two with a single jerk of her pinkies.
Her cheeks are red, and her eyes are wide.
“I mean, he’s hot. Most tech bros are five foot three and pudgy, but not my stepbrother.
Somehow, he was blessed in the looks department, and oh my god!
” she says, fanning herself theatrically.
“This guy has abs. The only question is if he has cock too,” she says with a naughty wink.
Mary Kate, who habitually does her eyeliner like she’s prepping for the Oscars, jumps in.
“You know what’s so hot about that?” She doesn’t wait for an answer.
“If you seduce him, your mom’s wedding night will be totally overshadowed by your own sexual debut.
You won’t remember a thing from the ceremony because let’s face it. Weddings can be boring.”
Kayleigh fake gasps and bats her eyes. “It’s not about the wedding, it’s about the man,” she says, but her smile is hungry. “Plus, let’s be honest, he has to be hung. A guy that hot can’t be not hung.”
Mary Kate giggles at the double negative.
“Are you sure? You know that shoe size can be deceiving.” But then, she leans forward, arms folded, nails tap-tapping the table in a nervous Morse code.
“Okay. I have a situation that’s technically in progress that might even top yours, girlfriend.
” She says this so softly, all three of us lean in to catch the words.
“Last night,” Mary Kate continues, “my stepdad called, and we talked. Like, really talked. About college, and his job, and…” She breaks off, bites her lip, and glances at the window, as if checking for snipers.
I cut in. “Oh my god, you had phone sex with him?” I squeal.
Mary Kate rolls her eyes.
“Not exactly. Sort of. Okay, maybe a little.”
Stella gasps. “Is your mom still married to him?”
Mary Kate grins, a lopsided show of teeth, and flips her hair over one shoulder. “Not for long. They’re in the process of getting a divorce, and she’s already moving out, so it’s not like I’m breaking up a happy home. Technically, I’m just getting a head start.”
A silence lands, not awkward, but dense—a quick inhale before the next hit. Kayleigh lets out a squeak, slaps her hand to her mouth, and then, with a strangled giggle, says, “You are so bad. You’re actually bad.”
Stella cracks up, shaking her head in disbelief. “You’re literally going to win the bet, with your stepdad, no less. I can’t believe it.”
Mary Kate shrugs, the glint in her eye brighter now. “I mean, unless you have an update, Stells?”
Stella straightens her posture—she’s good at that, the little queen bee moves—and fixes us all with a look of smug clarity. “You’re gonna love this,” she says. “I have been shamelessly flirting with both Brody and Kane—”
“The hockey twins?” I interrupt.
She holds up a hand. “Not twins. Just line-mates. But they do look almost identical when they have their helmets on.” She waits for effect.
“Anyway. They both want me, but neither wants to be the first to say it out loud, because they’re best friends and all.
So I have a plan.” She pauses, then leans in.
“I’m going to lose my virginity to both at the same time. One in each hole. Pussy and ass.”
Mary Kate actually shrieks. Kayleigh covers her mouth with her hand. I just blink.
“Stella,” I say, “there’s not even a word for that.”
She grins. “Sure there is. It’s called ‘winning.’ There should be a bonus if I manage it, honestly. I mean, getting popped two at a time? I’ll be stretched so hard I’ll need a wheelchair.”
Kayleigh is the first to recover. “You’re a psycho,” she says, but her admiration is obvious. “I hope you film it. For science, of course.”
Stella grins evilly.
“I’m definitely going to film it. But I can’t figure out what position we’ll be in. Should I be lying down, with one in front and one in back? Or should I be in doggie? But I don’t get how they’d take my holes simultaneously if I’m on my hands and knees.”
I wink at her.
“You’re flexible, girlfriend. You’ll find a way to get your cherries popped.”
All four of us collapse into laughter, the kind that rises in waves, each echo triggering a new round. The table shakes. The girls at the next booth turn to look. I feel the knot in my stomach unwind a little, replaced by a fizzy warmth that has nothing to do with the mango smoothie.
When the laughter dies, Stella wipes her eyes with her napkin, then turns her full attention to me. “Andie,” she says, stretching my name out to three syllables. “We’ve all spilled, so it’s your turn to go.”
Three pairs of eyes. All expectation, no mercy. My hands go clammy on the cup. For a half-second I think about telling the truth, just to keep the rhythm going. But my tongue feels like lead in my mouth, heavy and sour.
I glance down at my phone, still on the table, and see my own reflection in the black screen: cheeks a little flushed, eyes too bright, mouth half-smiling like I’ve got a secret.
I think about Thomas, about last night, about the rules I broke and the ones I didn’t know existed until I tripped over them.
“Okay,” I say, and clear my throat, “I have an update, but it’s not as epic as any of yours.”
Mary Kate tilts her head, a lock of pale hair falling into her face. “Try us.”
Three pairs of eyes, each a different flavor of expectation: Mary Kate’s sweet and pink-cheeked, Kayleigh’s narrowed and hungry, Stella’s cool and direct, her chin propped on the heel of her hand.
They all want something from me—a story, an update, a punchline.
I give them nothing, at first, just a half-smile as I suck at the bottom inch of my mango smoothie, pretending the only thing I care about is getting the last of the pulp up the straw.
But it’s not the smoothie I’m thinking about.
It’s the way my checking account flashed a neon warning last night when I bought textbooks for next term; it’s the feel of Thomas’s hand on the back of my neck, that weirdly protective gesture, right before he pressed me against his penthouse window and told me I was perfect.
It’s the way both things—money and the man—make my stomach twist.
I could tell the truth. I could drop the nuclear bomb, win the thousand and the respect, and then what? Walk around knowing I burned down something for a moment’s pride? Or worse, that no one else would even care?
So I do what I’ve always done when a moment gets too big: I shrink it. Make myself small, keep the world manageable.
“Okay, so I lied. I don’t have anything to report,” I say, voice pitched in that “sorry, not sorry” way. “I’ve been so slammed with work-study that I haven’t even had time for a decent make-out, let alone anything bet-worthy.” I laugh, but the sound is a little brittle.
Mary Kate doesn’t believe me, but she’s too polite to say it. Kayleigh tilts her head, eyes a little narrowed, like she can smell the bullshit. But it’s Stella’s face that matters—her eyebrows rising just a notch, a barely-there surprise.
“Really?” she says, and her tone is so neutral it could be Switzerland. “I thought maybe you and my dad—” she waves her hand, “—had something going. You know, after that night at the fundraiser.”
The world goes a little soft around the edges.
I feel my grip tighten on the smoothie cup, the chill numbing my palm.
“That was just a weird night,” I say, and try to play it off.
“Your dad’s, like, way out of my league.
He’s rich, handsome, and can get anyone.
He’s probably dating a Victoria’s Secret model by now. ”