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I scan the list of potential—what? Boyfriends? Lovers? Dehymenators? I don’t exactly know what to call them, since in theory, their main purpose would be my eventual deflowering. Gardeners maybe?

“This is it?” I scour the names again in case I missed one.

“With your criteria? Yes. We’re basically left with Tyler Anderson, Trey Carter, Aaron Benjamin, Elijah O’Neil, and Caleb James. The official ‘get laid’ list.” Nicole snickers.

“I’m okay with Tyler, Trey, Elijah, and Caleb, but I don’t know about Aaron.”

“What’s wrong with him?” She sags into her chair and blows her violet bangs out of her eyes.

“Didn’t he sleep with Selina at the winter formal?” I shudder, and my stomach lurches into my throat as I remember her bright-red lips wrapped around my ex-boyfriend’s boner.

“You’re right.” Like the loyal friend she is, Nicole scratches Aaron from the list. “God knows how many unrealistic expectations she’s given him.”

I stare at the names until they blur and consider going through with the crazy plan. After all, the pressure would finally be off. After getting it over with, there’d be no more worrying if it would hurt, if I’d be any good at it, or if I’d even like it. The concept of a “practice run” suddenly has merit.

“Let’s say I wanted to do this. How would I actually go about it? Would I go up to them one at a time and ask them to have sex with me? That sounds super romantic.”

“You mean desperate?” Nicole snorts. “No, I think you’d have to flirt your way down the list. Get them to ask you out. Let things happen naturally. Ease your way into it. Run a few bases first. Make sure you like the guy before giving him the golden ticket to your candy factory or, you know, take a lick of his Everlasting Gobstopper.”

“Shut. Up!” I choke out a laugh. “I’m not licking anything called a Gobstopper.”

Nicole cracks up, wheezing so badly she can’t respond.

“I do have some experience, you know.”

Nicole wipes away the black tracks forming under her eyes. “Heavy making out and a little under-the-clothes action in the Kappa common room doesn’t count.”

I let out a bark of indignation. “It counts!”

“Barely.” Nicole flashes a toothy grin. “Back to your question . . . if you wanted to do this for real, you couldn’t tell anyone what you were up to. Can you imagine the power they’d have if they knew your goal?”

“Oh God, that would be . . . bad.”

“One more thing.” Nicole snatches the list from my hand with a sinister cackle and writes ​​Kennedy Beaman’s Get Laid List​​ in big bold letters across the top of the page. “You should leave that on your mom’s kitchen table next time you go do laundry. Might shut her up for a while.”

We stare at the list until we both dissolve into hysterical laughter.

I prop my elbows on the table and rest my chin in my hands. “This has to be the dumbest idea we’ve ever come up with.”

“Worse than . . .” Nicole’s eyebrows shoot up.

I snort. “No question.”

“So you’re . . .”

“Not doing it.”

“Definitely not,” she agrees with a grin.

My face goes up in flames at the thought of getting naked with any one of the guys on the list. “What are the odds any of them would even be interested in me?”

“Are you kidding?” Nicole gapes at me. “Elijah’s had a thing for you since winter formal, freshman year.”

“Really?”

She nods. “Remember what you were wearing?”

“Of course.” What I remember more than my plunging gown is Lucas sweet-talking me into a first date. And then a second. If I’d had any idea Elijah was interested . . . visions of Elijah O’Neil moving in for a kiss send hot tingles erupting over my skin. “Bump him to the top of the list.”