“I…” I cleared my throat and muttered, “I had sex in the bed of a pickup truck outside a monster truck rally.”
His jaw dropped. “You did not.”
“I did.” I felt my face go hot. “Isn’t it time to switch drivers?”
“We are never switching drivers again unless you tell me that entire story.”
“Because you want the details of me having sex with some guy back when I was twenty-four?” I asked, like I wasn’t equally desperate to hear about every part of his life that I’d missed.
“No, I want to know because you obviously don’t want to tell me, which means it’s a good story. I’m imagining a beer gut and an I Heart Tractors shirt…”
I rolled my eyes. “Not quite. His name was Vinnie. He, uh, sang the national anthem before the trucks came out?” I bit my lip at the memory. “He had all this messy, dark hair, and he wore a sleeveless shirt with huge cutouts all the way down to his waist to show off the tattoos on his flank. He wore the tightest jeans I’d ever seen,” I said wistfully. “They were abitchto get on and off, but at the time I really appreciated that he displayed how much product was in the package right up front.”
Jay made a choking noise.
“Plus, he sang with his eyes squeezed shut, like thinking about those stars and stripes caused him actual pain—” I demonstrated. “Hngh. Hot as fuck.”
Jay spluttered with laughter. “And yet you mocked me for looking like a jackass when I emoted over Troye Sivan!”
“I never mocked you.” I cut my eyes to him, then away. “And I definitely didn’t think you looked like a jackass.” I cleared my throat and straightened in my seat. “Anyway, at least Vinnie wasn’t trying to drive at the time.”
Jay was silent, thoughtful maybe, and I cursed myself for running my damn mouth.
Finally, he said, “So, I’m not seeing why this story was so embarrassing—”
“I never said it was. You assumed.”
“—unless Vinnie was, like, singing the national anthemwhilehe fucked you—”
“No! He didn’tfuckme! We were in a parking lot. Jesus.”
“—or one of you started randomly crying in the middle of the act—”
“No! Fuck, no.”
“—or one of you called the other by the wrong name.”
Jay laughed.
I did not.
“Oh my fuck!” he gasped, so delighted he accelerated until we were hurtling past other cars. “What did he call you?”
My face went hot. “Done with this convo now. Watch the damn road.”
But Jay’s eyes widened further, like just by looking at the fists clenched on my legs he could hear all the words I didn’t say. “Wait, it wasyou?Youcalledhimby the wrong name?”
I stared fixedly out the window. “Pull over. I need a rest stop.”
Jay bounced up and down, which was fucking terrifying considering how shitty his driving ability was when his ass was firmly in his seat. “I cannot believe you did that!” he crowed. “Oh my God, no wonder you didn’t want to tell me!”
“It’s gonna downpour any second.” I gestured at the low clouds on the horizon. “If you don’t keep your eyes on the damn—”
“What’d you call him?” Jay’s voice, that deep, dreamy voice, was laced with laughter. “Come on, tell me! Did you call him your ex’s name? Or, no, wait, you said you were twenty-four? You didn’t have a boyfriend back then, did you? So did you call Vinnie by the name of your fantasy fuck?Oh, Eddie Redmayne!Or no, wait again. You said he was a singer, right?”
“No. Not really. Kind of. We didn’t exchange life stories. Jay, drop it,” I pleaded. “Just… let’s… maybe there’s a podcast we could—”
“Nope. Now this is a puzzle I need to solve! Lemme think of musicians you liked.” He tapped his lips. “You had that thing for Jared Leto from Thirty Seconds to Mars—”
