Page 55 of Positively Pricked

"Oh, him?" She sagged a little. "Not really. I mean, he's a little too hairy to be cute-cute." She brightened. "But hewasa big football star. So that's good."

I had no idea what to say. The senator was clean shaven and nearly bald. This posed a rather disturbing question.Hairy where?But I didn't ask, because I was pretty darn sure that I didn't want to know.

Tiffany leaned a fraction closer and whispered, "But can I be honest?"

"Uh, well…" In truth, I wasn't sure how much more honesty I could take. And yet, I gave a short, jerky nod.

What was I? A masochist or something?

Tiffany glanced around before saying in a hushed voice, "Just between us, I'm thinking of trading up."

Curiosity got the best of me. "Really? To who?"

Tiffany's gaze grew dreamy. "Zane Bennington."

I froze. Just the mere mention of that dreaded name was enough to make me want to break something, like an arm –hispreferably.

My mouth tightened. "So are you two a thing now?"

"I wouldn't gothatfar," she said. "But wecouldbe, right?"

What could I say tothat? "Sure, why not?"

Once again, Tiffany was all smiles. "And I was thinking that maybe you and I could chat about it over lunch."

She was thinking wrong. The last thing I wanted now was to hear anyone gush about Zane "the Prick" Bennington. Already, I'd been hearing that name far too often. It seemed like every time I turned on the news, there he was, pissing someone off – or, on the flipside, doing a new business deal or schmoozing with some actress or runway model.

And, if that weren't bad enough, he was doing most of these things right here in Indianapolis, as opposed to the usual places, like New York or L.A.

By now, I had a theory. All those jet-setters were coming to him, because he wouldn't go to them.

I just knew it.

In front of me, Tiffany asked, "So, do you like sushi?"

Seafood?Immediately, I thought of those stupid crab-cakes and how awful she'd treated me the last time I'd seen her.

I shook my head. "No. Sorry." I made a move to step past her. "I've gotta go."

"Wait!" Tiffany sidestepped to block my path. "It doesn'thaveto be sushi. We can go anywhere you want." She gave me a pleading look. "The truth is, I couldreallyuse someone to talk to."

I almost didn't know what to say. Even in college, Tiffany and I hadn't been more than casual friends. Why would she confide in me of all people?

As if reading something in my expression, she said, "Do you remember that time you caught me with Buster Hogan in the stall?"

Did I ever.Even now, three years later, the image was burned into my brain. I'd opened the last stall in the library's second-floor women's restroom, only to catch a good eyeful of Tiffany and Buster doing the nasty.

I still didn't know why they pickedthereof all places. And in truth, I didn'twantto know. With more than a little trepidation, I said, "Uh, yeah?"

"Well, you never told anyone."

This wasn't quite true. I'd told Charlotte. But that was like putting it in the vault, because we had a strict no-blabbing policy on shared secrets.

"Yeah?" I said. "So?"

"So I know that I can trust you, you know, with girl-talk stuff."

It was actually a pretty nice thing to say. "Uh, thanks."

"And besides," she added, "we travel in totally different circles now, so it's not like you could tell anyone important."

I gave her a look. "Oh, that's nice."

"I know, right?" She gave me another sunny smile. "So, how about Italian? Everyone likesthat."

My stomach gave another traitorous grumble.Damn it.Ididlike Italian, but it hardly mattered. I still couldn’t afford it.

Almost as an afterthought, Tiffany added, "Oh, and I'm totally treating. Ididmention that, right?"