Page 38 of The Summer We Lie

"One, she's Harper's best friend. That's just fucked up." I trace the rim of my glass, the implications too disturbing to fully articulate.

"Yeah, but if it's just once, there's really nothing to tell," Ethan argues, ever the pragmatist.

"I get it," Logan says, surprisingly insightful. "It's like a betrayal to Harper from both you and Skye."

"Exactly," I say, relieved that at least one of them understands. "She would never forgive us if she found out." The thought of losing Harper's trust makes my stomach clench more than the whiskey.

"Number two?" Ethan prompts, clearly unconvinced by my first objection.

"Yeah, number two..." I hesitate, staring into my glass, watching the light fracture through the crystal and amber. "I don't know how to do it."

"I fucking knew it!" Logan slaps the table, drawing glances from nearby patrons. "It's been so long you forgot? Don't worry, I'll walk you through it. I get ass all the time."

Ethan bursts into laughter, and despite myself, I crack a smile. Their familiar banter momentarily lightens the weight I've been carrying.

"No, dumbass. I don't know how to be gentle with a virgin. That's not exactly my style. You guys know what kind of shit I'm into." My preferences flash through my mind—the control, the dominance, the intensity that would terrify someone inexperienced.

The table goes quiet for a moment as they consider this, the gravity of my confession settling between us.

"Yeah, but for one night you can just take it slow," Logan suggests, unusually serious. "Hey, and maybe that will even help you get over her."

"That actually makes sense," I admit, surprised by his insight. One night. Get it out of my system. Move on.

"Or," Ethan interjects, leaning in closer, his voice dropping lower, "why don't you tell her what you like, see if she's down, and show her the dark side? You never know—she might like that shit. You know, she seems like the freaky type."

"Bro," I say, incredulous at the suggestion that innocent, wide-eyed Skye could handle what I need.

"She does," Logan agrees, nodding vigorously. "Have you watched any of her content?"

I'm confused now, the whiskey clouding my thoughts. "What content?"

They exchange a look that makes me uneasy. Something passes between them that I don't understand, and the whiskey suddenly feels heavier in my stomach, like a stone.

"What the hell are you talking about?" I demand, setting my glass down harder than intended, liquid sloshing over the rim. "What content?"

"She's a good girl," Ethan says with a smirk. "You know, on 'Good Girl Gone Live.'"

"What the fuck is that?" I lean forward, alcohol making my movements less precise than usual, the room tilting slightly as I shift.

"You know, like OnlyFans but for women only," he says, shrugging like this is common knowledge everyone but me possesses. "She's a performer on there. Has her own channel and everything."

Anger courses through me, hot and immediate. My pulse pounds in my ears as I process his words, each beat hammering against my skull. Skye—innocent, green-eyed Skye with her nervous smiles and shy glances—performs on some adult site? The image doesn't compute, doesn't align with the girl I've been avoiding for days, the one who looked at me with wide, startled eyes whenever our paths crossed in my home.

"Wait," I say, my voice dropping dangerously low, each word carefully controlled despite the alcohol swimming through my system. "Have you two watched her?" I study their faces with the intensity I normally reserve for structural blueprints, looking for signs of guilt, for any indication they've seen what I haven't.

"I only watched one of them," Logan admits, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, suddenly finding the condensation on his glass fascinating. "The one that's public for members to get you to subscribe."

My hands curl into fists beneath the table, knuckles white with restraint. "What the fuck is on that one?" My tone leaves no room for evasion, cold and hard as reinforced concrete.

"Just her teasing, you know, talking about being a virgin, asking if we want to make her come, we can subscribe." Logan at least has the decency to look uncomfortable now, his usual easy charm nowhere to be found. "It's hot but pretty tame. Nothing explicit."

I want to rip his eyes out. The thought of them—of anyone—seeing Skye like that makes something primal rise up in me, a possessiveness I have no right to feel. I down the rest of my drink in one burning gulp, welcoming the scorching path it carves down my throat.

"And you?" I turn to Ethan, my eyes narrowing as I wait for his confession.

"Same," he admits with a half-shrug. "I would have subscribed to her, but we bid on her for you, so I didn't. Professional courtesy and all that."

"Fuck," I mutter, the room starting to spin slightly, reality tilting on its axis. "I need another drink."