Demi makes a disgusted noise. “Ugh. Classic.”
“What if a man like Hex expects me toinitiate?” I ask, fully spiraling now. “What if I just… reach down his pants and start tugging it like a goddamn thirty-nine-year-old amateur?”
Demi turns in her seat, face full of the kind of judgment that only a best friend can deliver. “Babe. No. You get in there, you find your inner Demi, you spit on that hand and theeeennn you start jerking.”
My hands slap the wheel. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Spit on my hand? I can’t do that.”
Demi throws her hands in the air. “Why the fuck not?!”
I shake my head, fighting a full-body cringe. “That’s something I feel like I need to practice.”
There’s a beat of silence before Demi bursts into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. “You—wait—you think you need practice? To spit?”
“I do! I don’t wanna be out here embarrassing myself! What if I do it wrong? What if I get stage fright and my mouth just dries up? The goddamn Sahara trapped behind my teeth.”
Demi gasps for breath between cackles. “Sable, babe, you don’t need a fucking training regimen for giving a hand job. Jesus Christ, I love you so much.”
I groan again, pressing my foot down on the gas a little harder as if speeding will somehow get me out of this conversation.
Demi wipes tears from her eyes. “Okay, okay, listen. I’ll help you.”
I side-eye her.
She throws her head back, laughing. “If you’re scared of your own damn spit, we’ve got work to do.”
I groan, gripping the wheel tighter. “I am notscaredof my spit.”
“You just said you can’t spit in your hand.” She lifts a brow, clearly enjoying my suffering. “And babe, if you can’t do it alone, how the hell are you gonna do it in the heat of the moment?”
I open my mouth to argue but immediately close it.
Fuck. She’s got a point.
She sees my hesitation and knows she’s got me too.
“Exactly.”
My best friend rolls her shoulders as if she’s about to give a hand job seminar.
“Now. It’s all about commitment. No half-assed dribbles. No weak, last-minute regrets. You own that spit, you mean that spit—”
“Demi—”
“—because if you hesitate, if you fumble the spit—” She shudders dramatically. “That’s how you ruin a moment.”
I bark out a laugh despite myself. “Speaking from experience?”
She gives me a look. “Sable. I havethrivedin the streets.”
I shake my head, eyes back on the road. “Demi, I swear to God—”
She ignores me completely. “Alright, watch and learn.”
Demi spits into her hand, unfazed by the fact we’re barreling down the road in the middle of a casual weekday afternoon. As if that’s a totally normal thing to do.
A perfect, glistening glob lands in the center of her palm, like she’s demonstrating something off the back of a porn set.
I shriek. “Demi, what the fuck?!”
