“Oh my god,” I mutter, closing my eyes.
“Speaking of which, how is boning your stepbrother going?” he asks with the world’s most obnoxious grin.
“Boning?”
“I can come up with a worse word,” he offers.
I nearly flip him off, then remember where we are and settle for a glare.
“It’s fine,” I say, and I can feel my face heat.
I debate not telling him anything or simply sayingThe boning continued as expectedor something. But then Ben makes a stupid, interested little face and I tell him basically everything, even if it’s short on the sex details and long on the complaints about GPS.
“He dumped you and then decided he wanted to bone again anyway?” is his unimpressed summary of my week.
“Youcannotkeep saying ‘bone.’”
“Sorry—he dumped you and then changed his mind and wants to have carnal relations?—”
“Ohgod.”
“—again, or something.”
“It’s complicated,” I explain. I didn’t tell Beneverythingeverything, because even I am aware thatI’m sorry I broke up with youdoesn’t sound like a romantic overture to most people. Even if I’m almost positive it was.
“So, you two are ‘talking,’” he says. There are scare quotes.
“Sure.”
Ben lifts one very judgmental eyebrow.
“I’m giving him some space,” I say. “This is good, honestly. I just don’t want to be clingy.”
“Clingy,” he mutters to himself, then sighs, rubs his face, and swears. “Shit, okay. Not to give you a mushy pep talk, but you know he’s all the way across the state and you’d have to actively try for more space than that, right?”
I look away, my face burning.
“You deserve someone who’ll text you all the time if that’s what you want,” Ben is saying. “You’re, like, acatch, and you shouldn’t settle for someone whoneeds spacefrom across the state. Just because you’ve dated some dickheads doesn’t mean youhaveto date dickheads.”
“Javi’s not a dickhead,” I hiss. “Look, he’s nice, I swear, okay? We just need to figure our thing out.”
“Am I gonna have to defend your honor at the wedding? As your date?”
“Ben. Be serious. What honor?” I ask.
“You said it, not me.” He shrugs, and I roll my eyes. “But listen, the offer stands. Even though I’d probably lose a fight to a Marine. Hey, you think Amy knows him? Maybe I can ask her about his deal.”
“You can’t just ask Marines if they know each other,” I say, faux-offended, and Ben snorts up at my stupid joke. “Alsothere’re a billion Marines, and he got out, like, seven or eight years ago.”
“Okay, okay, I’m just saying—I’ll lose a fight in your honor. And youstillhaven’t told me what color dress you’re wearing.”
“Whatever, you called me a catch,” I say, and Ben sighs.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
JAVIER
My phone ringswhile I’m in the grocery store wondering what to make for dinner for the rest of my life, and when I see it’s Madeline I accidentally throw it into some lemons.
