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"It's possible." She pulls me into another hug. "Come on. Let's get that coffee, huh?"
I nod. That's it. All I need. Coffee. Not a way out of a confession. Or a way to stop wanting my best friend's brother.
Coffee.
Just coffee.
After we load the car,we stop at Cassie's favorite Malibu Hills coffee shop, we pile into the car, and we take PCH to the ten.
The city blurs into the blue sky. I rest my head on the window and watch clouds roll by. There are too many things in my head. Uncomfortable things.
Better to think about a fun topic.
Sex.
We're in Mom's mini-van, the one she swore she'd never buy (well, the replacement for the one she swore she'd never buy). She and Damon traded cars for the week.
She's excited to take his luxury sedan to work. No doubt he's excited to drive this vehicle out to the desert, lay the back seat flat, and have sex under the stars.
Oh my god—
Have my parents done that?
Gross.
My eyes go to my best friend. She's sitting next to me. Damon offered Jackson shotgun, and he accepted. Which is odd. The two of them are friendlier than they were, but they're notreallyfriends.
Does Jackson have a lot of friends?
He's kinda prickly.
And he works more than I do.
When did he have time for a girlfriend?
It's hard to imagine him getting dumped, but it's hard to imagine him ending things either. Really, it's hard to imagine the guy in love. He has all the traits of a perfect husband except for that one.
There's not enough softness.
Or maybe he doesn't share it with me.
It's really none of my business, but that doesn't stop me from diving deeper, in my head.
The guy is so tightly wound. Is he a control freak in the bedroom too?
There isn't good research on whether or not uptight people are into domination. The anecdotes tell us the opposite—the executive who goes to a Chinatown sex dungeon to submit to his mistress—but the real research is lacking.
In his day job, he's a lawyer, which means he's obsessed with rules and justice.
So in his sex life, he's probably—
Really fucking hot.
Uh…
Next topic.
The trip. We're heading to Las Vegas for a family friend's joint bachelor party (the grooms are celebrating together). It's aweird bonding ritual. Why do we celebrate weddings with strip clubs anyway?
