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place like this,” Amy said. She dropped her voice. “And with

my own super hot bodyguard. I mean, I know he’s lost on you,

but if you were into guys, you’d appreciate him a lot, trust

me.”

Elva rolled her eyes. “We trust you, but ew. He’s probably

twenty years older than you.”

Amy lifted a delicate shoulder and swept her hair over it

right after. “So? That’s hot too.”

What would her friends say if she told them that she’d been

with Claire? That she’d let her do wicked things to her body

and that she craved all the wicked things she had yet to offer?

Would Elva be disgusted because Claire was so much older?

Not twenty years, but close enough. Would her friends recoil

at hearing that she’d been strapped? That she couldn’t sit

down for days without the pain shooting up from her bottom,

making her grind her teeth? That the pain had been so

bittersweet, because every single time she felt it, which was

just about constantly, she thought about Claire and was

instantly wet. Would her friends understand the connection

that Haley felt when she was with Claire? It was more than

their bodies. It felt like a communion of souls, tripping up and

tangling up in each other, when they were together.

It’s not a secret. Claire isn’t a secret, and I’m not hers. They

would understand. Maybe.

Whether they would or wouldn’t, Haley wasn’t ready to

open that part of herself up yet. She wasn’t willing to share

Claire with anyone, and picking apart the memories, putting

her experiences into words when words were always going to

be inadequate, was too intimate for her to do yet.

“It’s a nice house,” Haley said, trying to be conversational.