Player(34)

“Well, it’s gonna have to be enough. I shouldn’t have asked him for that much in the first place.”

Her arms folded across her chest. “How can you say that? That kiss blew your mind.”

“I know.”

“It rearranged the stars. It permanently affected your gravity. It set the bar somewhere around Pluto.”

I sighed. “I know.”

“It almost gave you a heart attack. It straight-up ruined your panties—”

“I know. But I betrayed the rules he very firmly put in place.”

Katherine interjected, “I mean, they weren’t that firm—”

I cut her off with a look. “This wasn’t part of the deal. I took advantage of his help and good nature.”

Katherine’s brow rose. “You took advantage of his good nature?”

“I did. He gave me a mercy kiss. A pity kiss.”

“Doesn’t sound like a pity kiss to me,” she said pointedly.

“How would I know? I have very clearly never been kissed for real in my life. Not if that’s what I’ve been missing. I’m sure it was totally lukewarm to him. Mediocre. Average. As unexceptional and bland as cold tofu.”

Katherine nodded her understanding. “Sort of like if you’ve never seen a penis. The first one could be totally average, but you’d panic, wondering how in the world it would fit in you. A turgid penis is nothing to scoff at.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Amelia mumbled, not having seen one in person. “I’m just saying, if it was that good, why wouldn’t you do it again?”

“Because he doesn’t want to.”

“You can’t possibly know that,” Amelia argued.

“Well, I—”

“She’s right,” Katherine said, though she didn’t at all look happy about it.

Our faces swung in her direction, Amelia’s smug and mine betrayed.

“You can’t actually be suggesting—”

She cut me off, holding her hands up, palms out. “I’m not suggesting anything. I’m only saying, you can’t know for sure that he doesn’t want to kiss you again.”

“It’s…it’s ridiculous. Why would…he could never…I mean, it’s me, and he’s Sam, and…no,” I sputtered.

Katherine watched me for a beat. “It’s not a bad idea. He’s already showing you the ropes of dating. Why not the physical part of relationships, too?”

I blinked at her. “You can’t be serious.”

She made a face. “When am I not serious?”

“That’s fair,” Amelia chimed in.

“So you’re saying I should sleep with him?”

“Well, I think you should consider asking if he wants to sleep with you, but if that’s what you want, then yes. You know, for posterity.”

A laugh bubbled out of me. “So I should sleep with him for science? Assuming he’s interested. Also assuming he doesn’t laugh me out of whatever building we happen to be in.”

“From what you said about the kiss, it definitely sounds like he’d be interested.”

“This is also assuming I could get naked in front of him. I’d be too busy cataloging my flaws to enjoy myself.”

“Let me tell you a little story,” Katherine said studiously. “Once, when I was fifteen, my parents dragged me to a water park in an effort to, in their words, normalize me.”

Amelia snorted a laugh.

“Exactly,” she continued. “So when we got there, I pulled off my cover-up and looked down, and there it was. A stray pube, black as ink, on my pale upper thigh.”

“Oh my God, no!” I said, giggling.

“Oh, yes. I mean, it wasn’t long enough to curl, but it was long enough to grab. I know, because I panicked and tried to pluck it with my fingernails.”

Amelia and I groaned in unison.

“It wasn’t coming out—no way, no how. So I looked around at everyone, imagining them all staring at my stray pubic hair, laughing and pointing. And that’s when I realized something.”

She paused. We waited with bated breath.

And with a smile, she said, “No one was looking at my stray pube. They were worried about their own pubes.”

My mouth fell open in awe. “That is the most profound thing you have ever said.”

“I know. It was one of the great epiphanies of my life. Everyone has flaws, and that’s all they see. But other people, they don’t see your flaws. They’re way too concerned with their own. So don’t worry about Sam. I bet he doesn’t see a single thing you see.”

I narrowed my eyes in contemplation. “I thought you said this was a terrible idea. That it would all go down in flames. With tears. And a whiskey binge.”

“I would never use a metaphor. And anyway, that was before. You’ve proven you can be around him without being obsessive or unhealthy.”

“We’re literally discussing sleeping with him so I can take notes. What about this is healthy?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m saying that I think you’ve established an interesting relationship with a man who has the ability to teach you more than some basic social skills. The boundaries are such that you could graduate into a physical relationship with him, and as long as you maintain emotional distance, you could find yourself very fulfilled.”