I adopt his aloof posture. Watch clouds roll over the skylight. Watch the wavy lines of the pool bounce off the sliding glass door. Watch a dozen people turn their attention to me.
Deep breath. Slow exhale. "Truth."
His blue eyes sparkle as his smile spreads over his cheeks. "Are you a virgin?"
My cheeks flush.
My chest too.
Fuck Dean.
He must know I am.
Everyone at school knows.
I'm the weird loner who spends lunch drawing in her sketchbook.
Guys aren't interested.
Not that any guys appeal. The guy who tortures me is the only one I want.
Why am I here?
I step backwards. Dig my heel into the soft carpet. My instincts scream leave, but I can't do that.
I'm not embarrassed of my inexperience.
I'm not letting him rattle me.
I'm not letting his friends think I'm some loser ashamed of her decisions.
"Yes." I shoot Dean my most serene smile. "I have standards. I'm sure that's hard for you to imagine."
He scratches his head. "Standards. Never heard of those."
His friends laugh.
Someone calls out, "It's when you need more than a pulse and two legs."
"Two legs? Look who's Mr. Picky." A jock laughs.
"I'd never discriminate against a woman with one leg. Or no legs." Dean's eyes find mine. "I don't need a smile either. A million dollar scowl is better."
I fight my scowl. I'm playing Dean's game. Indifference. Aloofness. Utter coolness. "Unfortunately for you, I do have standards."
Someone makes that ooh, burn sound.
The girls on the floor giggle. Whisper something. No doubt it's who does she think she is? No way Dean wants her. But I don't care about them.
They're seniors. They're graduating. In two weeks, they'll be out of my life forever.
Dean looks up a
t me with a wicked smile. "Your turn."
Oh. So it is. I scan the room.
Fuck the girls trading rumors.