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“Different how? His dick made of gold or something?” Blake asks. “Did you like it?”
I stare into my drink, watching the ice cubes melt. “I did.”
“Of course you did.” Serena waves a dismissive hand. “Orgasms are great. That’s like, basic biology.”
“It’s not just that.” I bite my lip, tasting the waxy hint of lipstick. “After, we… we cuddled.”
“I’m sorry, what?” Blake’s eyes are wide.
“You… cuddled?” Serena looks like I just told her I’m running off to join the circus. “Like, post-sex snuggling?”
“Like, he held me. That’s all.”
Blake studies me, her skepticism almost tactile. “And it was just holding? No other… activities?”
I nod, though the memory of Brandon’s hands, his warmth, his stupidly comforting presence, makes me want to shake my head instead. “It was nice.”
Another beat of silence as Blake and Serena exchange a look I can’t quite read.
“Let me get this straight,” Blake says slowly. “Brandon Milton, king of the one-night stands, made you come, not even touching himself… and then cuddled with you?”
I nod, miserable.
“We all know what that means, right?” Serena asks.
“He’s my friend,” I say. “That’s all.”
“Friends don’t get each other off and then cuddle,” Blake says.
“How would you know?” I ask. “You’ve never had a male friend you weren’t fucking.”
Blake’s face hardens, that perfect mask slipping for just a second.
I rub my temples. “I’m sorry. That was?—”
“Bitchy?” Blake cuts in. “Yeah, it was.”
“You know what your problem is?” Serena asks. “You overthink everything.”
My phone buzzes. Brandon again.
Brandon: Would you hate me if I suddenly appeared out of nowhere?
The familiar flutter in my stomach makes me want to throw up. Or maybe that’s the vodka. Or maybe it’s the fact that I haven’t eaten since… I can’t remember.
“There he goes again.” Blake tries to peek at my screen. “What’s lover boy saying now?”
I turn my phone face-down. “Nothing important.”
“Your face is doing that thing.” Blake points at me.
“What thing?”
“That thing where you try not to smile but fail miserably.” Serena mimics what I assume is supposed to be my expression, but looks more like she’s having a stroke.
“I don’t do that.”
“You’re doing it right now,” Blake says. “Face it, NayNay. You’re in deep shit.”