Sincerely, Carter (Sincerely Carter #1)(10)

We were not friends. We were study partners.

“It’s more than okay with me,” I said. “You don’t really need my permission. How about asking him out and not me?”

“I heard he has a huge cock.” She lowered her voice again. “And that he’s into really dirty and intense sex…Is that true?”

“How the hell would I know?”

“Oh, come on...” She gave me a pointed look. “There’s no way you’ve never copped a feel of his dick or given it a second look…”

“I haven’t.”

Trying to catch me in a lie, she tried the example approach. “He doesn’t even go to our school, Arizona. Yet, I see him on our campus all the time.”

“Are you aware that he’s dated quite a few girls from our school before? That’s another very good reason for that…”

“So, just to be one hundred percent sure, you’re telling me that you two have never sampled each other?”

“Did you really just use the word ‘sampled’ in a sexual context?” I couldn’t believe this. “Look, he and I have never had sex, let alone sampled each other, and you can trust me on this. You can also trust me saying that we never, ever will.”

She looked at me for a few moments, as if she were trying to determine if I was going to somehow take everything back, and then she smiled. “You are too cute!” She hugged me—literally wrapped her arms around me and squeezed me so hard I started to cough. “Quick question, though…I figured you would know. What’s his favorite color?”

“Blue, sea blue.”

“Good to know.” She winked at me as she opened the door. “I’ll keep that in mind for what color thong to wear under my dress whenever he takes me out.”’

There wasn’t an eye roll worthy enough to use for that so I simply smiled and followed her back out to the living room, waiting for her to say a few last words to Carter. She gave him her phone number, whispered something that sounded like, “I can’t wait to f*ck you…” into his ear, and gave him one last sultry look before leaving.

“Good party,” Carter said, shutting the door behind her. “What part of the house do you have to clean up before you can leave?”

“None. My mom said I didn’t have to help. She said I should just enjoy my night.”

“There’s no way she said that.” He leaned against the wall. “Tell me so I can help you clean whatever it is. If we hurry up and get it done we can start your sex victim search long before last call.”

“I was being serious, Carter!” My mom called from the kitchen. “You both can get out now!”

He didn’t question it any further. “Bar crawl?”

“Absolutely.” I walked outside and hopped into his car, changing the radio station and answering a few of his questions about Tina.

As we searched for a parking spot near the pier, I prayed to the Best-Friend-Gods that if he changed his mind and decided to get serious with Tina (or anyone else this summer, for that matter) that she wouldn’t turn out to be another Emily. I couldn’t handle another one of those…

Being his best friend was already tricky territory. All of his girlfriends automatically became suspicious when he introduced us. They smiled at me when he was looking, and glared at me behind his back. And, whenever he was on the phone with me, he always had to go out of his way to say, “No, really. She’s just my best friend…” halfway through the conversation. Usually more than once.

There was almost always an ultimatum in his relationships, too: “Are you dating Arizona or ME?!”

Yet, since we’re indeed “just friends”—just goddamn friends (why couldn’t people see this?!), I had no issues with him falling back or not talking to me as much, because months later, the results were always the same: Another breakup. Another late night phone call to discuss what did or didn’t go wrong. Another brief break until he found the next crazy.

In fact, sometimes I wished I could sit with his next girlfriend and say, “Hey, before you start thinking about doing anything stupid and accusing him of something that has never, and will never happen, here are a few facts that will probably ease your mind:

1) I’m not attracted to him. AT ALL. I don’t get what all the hype is about, sorry.

2) I’m not interested in “f*cking him.” AT ALL. I’ve had enough great sex to keep me satisfied, and when I’m not with someone, my vibrator serves me just fine with fantasies of celebrities. NOT HIM. #Truestory. And

3) He once saw me naked at a pool party when we were eighteen and begged me—f*cking begged me, to put my clothes back on. ASAP. So, yeah. He’s not attracted to me either. Can you promise not to make any accusations about the two of us now?”

Of course, I was sure that scheduling a sit down with a potential girlfriend would lead to more issues instead of alleviating them, so I just went along for the train wrecks—hoping he would one day find someone who wasn’t a psycho.

“Hey, Ari?” Carter waved his hand in front of my face minutes later.

“What?”

“Do you plan on getting out of the car tonight? He opened my door. “Or have you decided that you’d rather handle your * with your fingers for the rest of the summer instead?”