I peel his arm off me. “There’s nothing going on, Scott.” I flash him a smile and a quick laugh. “I train him, so we hang out. And we became really good friends.”
“Bestfriends,” he says.
I nod, feeling like I’m going to pee my pants now. “Yeah.”
“But you would fuck him, wouldn’t you?”
I turn around completely, abandoning my need for the bathroom. “Why are you saying that? Why is everyone so obsessed with our friendship?”
“Ce, that’s my boy. He’s barely hooked up with anyone recently, and he’s usually my wingman. I’m just wondering where he’s getting his needs met, you know?”
“Ugh.” I roll my eyes so hard I start to get dizzy. “I need to pee, but I promise you we’re good friends. That’s it.”
“Are you willing to train me? We could be besties too.”
I glare at him, walking backwards. Sarcastic asshole. “Bye, Scotty.”
I escape to the bathroom and take the longest pee of my entire life. When I come out, I feel much better, like I’ve regained some clarity.
I find Dylan putting his clothes back on, and he looks up when he sees me. “Ready to go?”
“Yeah. Hey, why is everyone suddenly so interested in our friendship?”
He shrugs, buttoning his jeans. “They’re bored. Nothing better to do.”
“They actually think we’re hooking up,” I say. My eyes drift around the party.
Dylan shrugs again, pulling his shirt over his head. “How drunk are you?”
I close one eye and walk in what I hope is a straight line toward him. When I reach him without falling over, he laughs.
“Definitely can’t drive, but I want to get home.”
“I’ll drive you.”
“Wait.” I press my hand against his arm, and his skin is warm under my palm. “Didn’t you have drinks too?”
“Barely. I’m good.”
When we say goodbye to everyone, Scott slaps Dylan’s ass and winks at me, Rocky bites his lip while bucking his hips, and Westley shakes his head like he’s disappointed in all of us.
Once we’re in Dylan’s truck, I buckle my seatbelt and watch him climb into the driver’s seat. “Do you hate having me for a friend?”
He looks at me like I’ve just asked him if he hates breathing. “No. Why would you think that?”
“I just pop out of nowhere in your life, and now everyone won’t stop questioning what’s going on. Isn’t that a bit much?”
Dylan starts the truck and pulls out of Rocky’s driveway. “It’s whatever. People talk.”
I roll my head against the seat to look at him. “And what does this mean?” I demonstrate the finger motion Rocky showed us earlier.
Dylan laughs and gently pushes my hand down. “Have you ever been fingered before?” he asks so subtly.
I shrug, then shake my head. “Maybe? I don’t know.”
He says, “You curl your finger and hit the G-spot from the inside.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “Seriously?”
