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"Cheap ideas, King," Ryan retorted. "Art girl, you’re not doing anything big."
"But it’s your birthday."
I had the best idea. "Get him pregnant. You know it’s what he wants. The perfect birthday present."
Joining in meant the same as usual. I announced my presence to the table in the same way I always did, with an off-color joke that made Kassie groan so hard, she held her head in her hands. "Adam. Please."
June even took a moment away from her phone to laugh. "Get him a smartwatch."
"He’d start using it like a hammer." I chuckled and swiped a piece of toast off of King’s plate.
Next to us though, Piper didn’t take a seat. She didn’t even move. A big blush crossed her cheeks, and she ran a hand up the strap of her bag. The others started looking her way and I could feel the anticipation.
Oh, shit. The stage fright.
I gestured towards her with the toast. "This is Piper Fontaine, everybody."
"Oh, yeah. Piper. I know you." June nodded. "You signed up for the conference."
"Yes, I’m the—I’m Piper, the RA—Adam’s RA. For his floor." A deeper flush crept up Piper’s neck. "Um…I’m super excited for the trip."
I raised an eyebrow. "June, you’re going on the trip too?"
"Oh, yeah." June gave a reluctant sigh. "I’m running it. Piper, are you teaching a class?"
She gave a vigorous nod. "The sex ed class."
"The what?" I grinned.
June pinched the bridge of her nose. "No jokes. Please."
"No, I got this, guys," Kassie assured the table. "Adam, sex is when two people want to reach a new stage in their relationship. When daddy and mommy love each other very much—"
I snorted without any humor, but everybody else at the table burst into laughter. King laughed the hardest, that asshole. I rolled my eyes and pulled out the chair next to me, waiting for Piper to take it.
My RA smiled the kind that made her gray eyes sparkle. It was a damn interesting color too, pretty unusual.
"June, you and King are so cute."
And just like that, everybody fell quiet.
12
Piper
Projecting
How do I keep putting my foot in my mouth?
It was bad enough trying to think of something to say, it was worse having eyes averted and grimaces shared. What part of my comment was wrong? It spun around in my brain, but I honestly couldn’t think of the reason.
"I’m going to get some—a drink," I blurted out.
Nobody said anything, or I didn’t give anybody a chance to say anything, as I headed to the counter, thinking the conversation over. Was it something I did?
When I dated Thomas, that’d been the best part of having a boyfriend. After we’d go out to dinner, I’d ask him what wrong thing I said and he was immediate with all fifty answers.
Asked where someone had bought the hummus from, asked how much the sweater had been, and asked for directions when I could’ve googled it, Thomas was always prepared with the list of things I’d embarrassed him with. I’d honestly relied on it so much. I felt raw without him.
