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“Evidently. He says he was spying on a bartender who was stealing. It checks out because when he walked me to the bar to get my report about the red-shirted guy who got kicked out, he sent the bartender to his office with a security escort.”
“Holy shit. I’m really sorry for the shit I said.”
I shake my head. “You didn’t know.”
“God. I’m just… wow. So it ended badly after good sex?”
I frown, not answering.
“Decent sex at least?” she nudges, running a finger through her éclair and then licking the whipped cream off her fingertip.
I give her an incredulous look. “I know you’re not seriously asking me about the sex right now.”
She gives me a slow shrug.
“I mean… when you throw out terms like fulfilling my kinky sex bucket list you can’t be surprised I’d ask questions. The dick moves aside, was the dick good?”
I throw my head back out of frustration, but do it too hard and don’t hit the back of the couch like I would’ve in my old living room. This couch is low backed, so my head bonks off the wall. I hiss. So does Alannah.
“I don’t want to talk about that night with Derek. Not ever.” I rub the back of my head.
“Okay,” she says softly, but then adds, “Never ever?”
She nibbles her lip while waiting for my answer.
I scoff. “You’ve got three.”
She knows I mean I’ll answer three questions and that’s it.
“Was he good?” she asks, then takes another bite of her éclair.
“On a scale of one to ten?” I pause, then say, “forty-four thousand and sixty-nine.”
Her eyes bulge.
She chews what’s in her mouth, swallows, and asks, “Does he want to do it again?”
“Yes. But it won’t happen. It can’t, not even if he didn’t prove that he was a dick of the highest degree. Because the terms of the hall pass state that I can’t use it on the same person twice. But that doesn’t matter because I’m done with this hall pass business. It was a disaster. I’ve had a mental breakdown in the past two days because of it. I blubbered to Adam about not being cut out for this.”
Her eyes boing. “You told Adam?”
I nod and tilt my hand with a so-so gesture.
“This doesn’t count as my third question, Chlo. That’s a part b.”
I snicker, pull my black band out of my hair and then I redo my ponytail. “I burst into tears when Adam came home yesterday and didn’t want to talk about it but told him I’m not cut out for it.”
“So, you’re swearing off sex for the foreseeable future?”
“Is this your third question?” I ask.
“No. Second question, part c. Duh,” she says and takes another bite of her éclair.
“I don’t know. I don’t know anything right now. I’m taking it minute by minute. What’s your third question? Adam could be back any time.”
She considers this for a beat before asking, “What did he make you for breakfast?”
I blink a couple times. “What?”
