“Tell me.”
“I’ve been thinking about all these little things between us, times when I thought maybe you were into me, but I was actually too afraid to go for it.”
I smile. Sounds familiar. “Like, when?”
“When I first got back from Cali and I was showing you my board. I was totally going to kiss you in the shed, but I wussed out.”
A lustful heat rises up in me at the memory of it. Boy, that would have cleared up some things.
“Sebastian, obviously,” he continues, “and then, that night you slept over when we were cuddling. All I wanted was to make out with you, but it felt wrong because you were all sad and depressed about your dad. I promised myself the next day I’d make a move.”
“So why didn’t you?”
He shakes his head. “I was warming up to it during our basketball game when Dave pulled up.”
“That’s when I told him I was done.”
“I figured.”
“The only reason I ever started hooking up with him was to get over you.”
Chris frowns. “I wish you hadn’t told me that. I really hate that guy.”
“He’s not all bad.”
“He’s a fucking asshole, Theo. Look what he did to you. And I hate that he got to you first.”
I shake my head. Chris is an only child who’s never had to share his toys unless he wanted to. Same with his parents’ affection. His jealous streak comes out in moments like these where he practically saysmine, mine, mine.
“I hated watching Kelli Keyhoe slobber all over you my entire freshman year.”
He sighs. “Yeah, my bad.” He runs his hand over the dashboard and inspects his fingers. Chris’s car is filthy. Maybe because his mom’s kind of a neat freak, he totally lets his car go. Talk about roaches. I’m never falling asleep in here.
“So, what’d you guys do when you were together?” Chris asks, going out of his way to sound casual about it, like he’s asking for the morning surf report.
“Me and Dave?” I ask, playing dumb.
“Yeah, who else?”
“I got pretty good at FIFA.”
I expect him to laugh at that, smile at least, but instead his frown deepens. “Fine, don’t tell me,” Chris says with a pout. I give him a look.
“Don’t make that face.” His mouth shouldn’t hold so much sway over me.
“What? I tell youeverything.”
That’s true; even when I’d rather him not tell me, he does.
“Hand jobs. Blowjobs. That’s about it.”
“Was it good?”
I clear my throat. This is what they call a trick question. “It wasn’t… bad.”
“Did you want to have sex with him?”
My face heats up. There are really no limits to what Chris will ask me.
