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“Yep, totally about sex,” Tina confirms. “Did you guys do it yet? Go down to bangtown?”
“Don’t be gross,” Melody says and elbows her. “But seriously, did you guys have sex?”
“No,” I say which is the truth, we definitely didn’t have sex. But we sort of had… weird in-person phone sex, although I’m not about to tell them that. “We talked about it though.”
“And do you want to?” Tina asks seriously. “I mean, I know you’ve never… done it before. And this thing with him is just, like… for show. But if you’re going to have kids…” She trails off and frowns at me.
“If we’re going to have kids like he wants then, yeah, we’ll have to do it eventually, right?” I take a deep breath and look at them. “Okay, it’s not like he’s gross and it’s not like I’m blind. The man’s really hot, right? But I’m afraid we’re going to, you know, do it once and then he’s going to be sick of me already, and who the hell wants to be married to a man that doesn’t want to, like, sleep with them all the time and—” I stop rambling because my heart’s racing and they’re staring at me like I’m crazy.
“Honey, you gotta talk to him about all this,” Melody says and reaches out to take my hand. “What you’re doing isso, sofar out of my depth that I can’t even begin to offer advice.”
“She’s right. You two just need to talk.” Tina shrugs and crosses her legs. “And you might as well bang one out.”
“Tina!” Melody says, outraged.
“What? She said it herself, she thinks the guy’s really hot. She might as well fuck him. They’re engaged!”
“She’s having a hard time with this,” Melody says through her teeth. “Have some compassion.”
“This is compassionate, sweetie. Kat, I love you, but you’re engaged to an eleven-out-of-ten, just about the hottest sort of guy you can possibly ever be with. You’d be freakinginsanenotto have sex with him. Who cares if you two aren’t madly in love?Lookat him! Let that man go to town on you!”
“You’re awful,” Melody says with a sigh.
But Tina’s right.
I’m not about to say that out loud—there’s no way I’m going to put up with Tina feeling smug—but she’s right.
I’m going to marry Ford. I know it’s weird he ran off the day after we had our little intimate moment, but we’re doing this for real. I’m going to be his wife and we’re going to have children, which means we’re going to have to have sex sooner or later, and yeah, I find him really attractive, and—
God, she’s right.
I might as well sleep with him and find out if we’re compatible now, and if we’re not, maybe we can work on it. But if I wait too long and things get too weird between us then maybe I won’t ever be able to make it work.
Ah, crap.
We finish up lunch without them dragging me through the mud for too much longer, although they do pepper me with logistical questions, half of which I can’t really answer. Tina heads back into the city, Melody goes out to the paddock (“Seriously I’m going to die today,” she says dramatically as she trudges off.), and I find myself alone in the employee bathroom staring in the mirror, fixing my hair, my heart racing and my core clenching with excitement.
The lighting in here sucks. I look tired and sweaty. I amnotwearing a cute bra.
Whatever.
I’m doing this.
I pull my shirt up and press my tits together and hold my camera up—and take a picture.
It’s awful. I delete it and do it again, and again, and again, until finally I get one where I don’t look demented.
I open my text conversation with Ford and attach the picture. My heart’s going wild in my chest and I don’t know what the hell I’m thinking. This ismadness, pure and utter insanity. Ford’s still more or less a stranger! And I’m about to send him a sexy picture.
The girls are right though. I’m engaged to this man and I need to start taking that seriously. Grandfather wants me to get dirt on him and ruin his life, but I can’t bring myself to actually follow through with that. Anyway, I can’t think about Grandfather while looking at a picture of me squeezing my tits together and pouting into a dirty horse farm mirror.
God, this is stupid.
This is mortifying.
I hit send.
The pictures whooshes through time and space and I immediately want to delete it. Oh my god, this is a mistake, what if he thinks I’m hideous and doesn’t like me or what if he’s embarrassed for me—I mean, I’m this stupid virgin girl sending bra pics on command and that has to be just the most pathetic thing imaginable, right? He’s going to take one look at that picture and want to leave me right away and then where will I be? How will I help Mom? I’ll have to beg Grandfather to take usback, and he’ll make me marry someone absolutely loathsome, some dork that won’t ever ask for nudes because he’s too afraid or something, and all because I’m such an embarrassing, pathetic, ugly loser—
