DJ grins. “What can I say? I’ve got range. I told him I had college friends who might want to go. Then Grant and Maya scoped out the Chicago one this summer and found out this was one of thebestlocations. Turns out the kinkiest place in Tennessee is thirty minutes from your childhood bedroom.”
I groan and cover my face. “How did I let you people drag me here?”
“Because deep down,” Maya says, turning toward me with a smirk, “you know you want to see it.”
I feel a pang in my gut that, surprisingly, tells me she’s right.
Maya reaches into her big bag and pulls out something pink and lacy.
“I love you. And here’s your mask.”
“That’s what was in that giant bag?” I stare at it like it might bite me. “I thought you brought cookies.”
“Nope. Full-face coverage. Don’t worry, no one will recognize you.”
We pull into the circle drive, and I stare up at the huge stone house glowing in soft gold light. It doesn’t look seedy or sketchy at all. In fact, it looks…expensive.
We climb out of the car, and Maya hands me the mask.
I slip it on.
“Ugh, I can’t see with this thing,” I grumble, fumbling with the straps. “It doesn’t line up with my eyes. Are theysupposedto make you look like a confused bird?”
DJ chuckles. “You’ll blend in.”
April, who rode in the other car with Grant, steps over to fix it. “How’s that?”
“I feel like I’m Darth Vader breathing in here.” I pause. “But I guess that’s good. Makes me harder to recognize.”
The guys lead the way toward the massive wooden doors, and as we get closer, something cold and anxious coils in my stomach.
“You know what?” I stop abruptly. “I think I’m gonna wait in the car. Y’all go on ahead, check it out. Take your time. Seriously. I’m completely fine sitting in the dark alone.”
I freeze mid-step like a nervous puppy who smells danger.
“You’re really blowing this out of proportion,” Maya says, giving my shoulder a pat that feels like a cross between comforting and amused. “Mont du Marquette is part of aworldwidenetwork. They’re all about sex-positivity and consent. Doms, subs, every orientation, every background—it's inclusive, respectful, and frankly? Kinda beautiful. This is your own little version of Rumspringa, babe.”
In the car on the way over, my friends had dubbed this trip theSummer of Faith.
I twist the ring on my finger.
They don’t get it. I still feel loyal to Keith—even if he’s halfway across the countrynot talking to mewhile he "explores his options."
“I just…I don’t know if I want to go in there.”
Maya pulls me a little further aside, her voice dropping.
“I’m not saying you need to be in a relationship. Or hook up. Or even flirt. But Faith, you’ve lived your whole life trying to be the version of yourself that makes everyone else comfortable.What about you?This is about exploring. Expanding. Learning whatyouwant. There’s no pressure. Just curiosity. Just see what it’s like.”
I cross my arms. It’s what small-town me does when the world feels too big.
“I know you and Grant are, like, the advanced-placement couple,” I mutter, “but just because you’re swinging from the rafters doesn’t mean the rest of us can dive in without blinking.”
Maya purses her lips, clearly hearing the defensiveness behind my joke.
“You know what,” she says, soft now, “I feel bad. We shouldn’t have pressured you to come. I just wanted you toseewhat else is out there. But if you want to leave, we’ll go. We can just hit a bar.”
I pause.
