“Oh,nowyou want to bring it back?” Sebastianasked.
“No, but this could be whatBadviceshould’ve been—readers getting thoughtful, humorous, legitimatelygoodadvice.”
“Goodvice?” Borissuggested.
Sebastian ignored him, opened his phone, and started to scroll. “Here’s one. ‘Do women evershaveeachother?’”
“Shave?” I was afraid to even ask for clarification. “Asin. . .”
Sebastian shrugged. “That’s the wholequestion.”
I put my face in my palm. I was discovering that men had many misconceptions when it came to women, particularly anything involving sleepovers or our bathroom buddy systems, but this was next level. “Who’s spreading this myth that we shower together?” I asked. “That’s the dumbest question I’ve ever heard.Next.”
“All right, geez,” he mumbled, flicking his thumb over the screen. “You’re going to hate all ofthese.”
“Try me,” Isaid.
He sighed. “Greg H. from Madison, Wisconsin says his ex would never let him touch her during her period, but his current girlfriend is begging for it. He wants to know if women like sex on the rag and how to do it.” Sebastian raised his eyebrows at me. “I’ve brought it up with the team, and . . . there seem to be conflicting schools ofthought.”
All the guys turned to me. “That could work, actually,” I said. “It’s debatable from both sides and both genders. Use it for your debut podcast episode, but take out ‘on the rag.’ Nobody says thatanymore.”
Boris cleared his throat. “But what’s theanswer?”
Sebastian sat forward and put his chin in his hand. It was the most interested he’d looked since lunch had arrived. Suddenly, my throat was dry. As a talking piece, the question worked well; opinions generally landed on one side or the other. It would rile up listeners, but as long as we tackled the issue from both the male and female perspective, the discussion could be healthy and informative. We could even touch on biology, and maybe—just maybe—the listeners wouldlearnsomething.
But that wasn’t what the guys wereasking.
Sebastian, in particular, looked as if he wanted to know my response. And of course now, I couldn’t seem to speak. “It’s a . . . personal preference,” I said. “There’s no one rightanswer.”
“But in general?” Justin asked. “I’ve always heard women are extra turned on whilemenstruating.”
“You also told me BDE stands for ‘bestest day ever,’” Sebastiansaid.
“What’s BDE?” Iasked.
Justin’s mouth slid into a smile. “Yeah, Sebastian, what is it? You should be the one to tell her since, according toNew York Magazine, you’ve gotit.”
I frowned. “Is it some kind ofSTD?”
“Jesus, no,” Sebastian said, nearly lurching out of his chair. “It stands for ‘big dickenergy.’”
Oh. I didn’t need any more clarification. From a biological standpoint, Sebastian was unequivocally male—tall, broad, full head of hair, enviable jawline, mesmerizing light eyes to lure in prey . . . but there was more to it than that. He oozed confidence, virility, and moved with the kind of ease I rarely saw in other men. All that in one man was partly what’d drawn me to him in thecafé.
I could only suspect, based on the facts, that he had the goods to back itup.
Justin held up his hands about a foot apart, subtly nodding at Sebastian as he grinned at me and whispered, “You won’t bedisappointed.”
Sebastian threw the paperclip at Justin’s head. “Dude.”
Mortified, I squeezed my eyes shut to get the image out of my head, but it was replaced with Sebastian playing air guitar in the shower again—only with one much morefavorabledetail.
“Aw, come on,” Justin said. “George’s no prude. She’s seenthings.”
“But has her counterpart?” Sebastianasked.
I couldn’t blame Justin for looking confused. He didn’t know that Sebastian was talking about Georgina, not George, because around here, only I knew there was a difference. Until now, it seemed. Sebastian was on to me, and my denying it over beers hadn’t thrown him off the scent. I thought back to the game, the way Sebastian had almost sounded jealous that François and I had “bumped hats.” The waySebastianhad trapped me against the table to kiss—or strangle—me, and how I wouldn’t have stopped him. Not with my hair curled around his finger and “buns” on his tongue. Why was I the only person Sebastian was willing tonickname?
Would he have kissed me if not for Justin’sinterruption?
