“I hope he does. I hope it works out for you.”
“Me, too.” My chest feels tight, and so does the nod I give her. “We’ll see.”
Her hand is warm on my arm, and her eyes are kind. “How do you think you avoided it?” she asks. “Falling into crime or drugs or whatever. What kept you off that path?”
I study her face and see she’s genuinely curious. Not judgmental, not pitying, just interested in my life choices.
I take a sip of beer and consider the question. “I guess I always wanted something better for myself. I saw the decisions my dad made, my sister made, my brother—and then I thought, ‘how can I avoid fucking up like that? How can I make totally different choices?’”
Lisa nods and looks down into her beer. “It’s like The Test.”
“What?”
“You made a decision to do the exact opposite,” she says. “To choose different things for yourself when you realized the other choices were dead ends.”
I stare at her, dumbfounded. I’d never thought of it like that before. “I guess so.”
“Is that why you agreed to help me?”
I shake my head, still amazed she made that connection. Is there something to it? Is it true that Lisa and I have that in common?
I pick up my beer and take a sip, too rattled to respond right away. This whole conversation is way too intense, and I feel like I’m sitting naked on this cracked vinyl bench. Like there’s pressure building inside me like a bomb set to explode.
I have to defuse it. To keep her from getting any closer.
“Maybe I just wanted to sleep with you.”
Lisa blinks at my dickhead answer, but doesn’t finch. There’s nothing in her eyes that says my words bothered her.
“Mission accomplished.” She lifts her glass in a mock toast. “You have officially crossed crazyhawt sex off my bucket list. And dirty talk, a fling with a stranger, and pretty much everything else required to complete my sexual education. Nicely done.”
Done? Wait, no.
“Let’s not go patting ourselves on the back just yet,” I tell her. “There’s still plenty of ground to cover.”
“What do you mean?”
“We’ve barely even scraped the surface of your sexual reeducation.”
She lifts an eyebrow at me, but there’s intrigue glinting in her eyes. “Such as?”
“Oh, plenty of sex positions. Tons of things I’m sure you’ve never tried.”
She tips her head to one side, blond hair skimming the M on her chest. “Like what?”
“Take the Screaming Weasel, for instance.”
“The Screaming Weasel?”
“Yeah. Like, are we going to need to order extra duct tape and tomato paste for that, or do you already have a good supply?”
She’s eyeing me like she can’t tell if I’m yanking her chain, so I keep going. “Or maybe the Upside-down Radish,” I say. “That’s more of an advanced move, but I think you’re ready for it. You aren’t claustrophobic, are you?”
A smile flickers over her face, and she sips her beer with a knowing look. “That should be fine,” she says slowly. “But I’m really more interested in the Paisley Parasol. Do you think my shellfish allergy will be a problem?”
I snort and run a finger through the ring of moisture from my beer glass. “Nah, we’ll be good as long as the gas mask is nice and snug.” I sip my beer and fight to keep a straight face. “Of course, we could always start with the Blue Rhino Tusk.”
“That does sound intriguing.”
