Page 85 of Wicked Pickle

“You okay?”

She passes me and flops onto the sofa. She’s more covered up this time, wearing a soft blue T-shirt instead of a tank top. She didn’t go there to cause trouble, I don’t think. Time to find out.

I quickly text Jenna that she’s here and sit beside her. “Why did you go back to the bar?”

She kicks off her sandals and brings her knees up to her chin. This is a move I can’t do, but she’s an adorable ball of blue jeans, her arms locked around her shins.

She doesn’t answer, staring at the wall.

I can wait her out. Sometimes, Marietta has to think a thing through before she’ll talk. “You want something to drink?” I ask.

“Yes. Something strong.”

That’s fine. She can sleep it off here. I head to the kitchen and return with a bottle of vodka, a six-pack of Diet Sprite, and two glasses of ice.

She watches me pour Sprite and vodka into the glass. When I hand her one, she downs half of it in one go.

Yeah, definitely sleeping it off here.

“Did you drink there?” I ask.

“Just one thing. Merrick made it.” At the mention of his name, she buries her face in her knees.

I’m getting the picture.

“You went to the bar to see Merrick?”

She doesn’t respond to that.

“How long have you been interested in him?”

It takes her a minute, but she finally answers, her voice muffled against her legs. “Since I showed him my boobs.”

Okay, then. “Was he the one you were aiming for?”

“No. Just anybody. But I’m glad he saw. I wanted to prove I wasn’t a boring little virgin.”

“I think you’ve definitely proven that.”

She looks up, her hair all mussed. “I told Diesel.”

That gets my attention. “Told him what?”

“My cherry status. Well, I hinted at it. I think he got the picture.”

“Why would you do that?”

She drops her feet to the floor. “I don’t know! I was so mad! I wanted what you have. For Merrick to take me away on his bike and bang my head off.”

I’m not sure that’s the image I would have conjured. “Does he know you’re interested?”

“I think he only seems me as a naive troublemaker who doesn’t know anything. But I’m twenty-four!”

“It’s all right. Maybe we can work something out. Do you want me to talk to Diesel about it?”

“Would you?” Marietta takes another gulp of her drink. “That would be so great. We could do like a double date! And you and Diesel could disappear and do your thing. And then I could finally do mine.”

I have a million concerns about this plan. “Why are you so determined to cash in that V-card?” It’s something she talks about a lot.