She rounds on me in a fine fury. “I don’t have to admit a thing.”
I soften my tone, but a smile escapes. “It wasn’t that bad.”
Delilah’s hands clench. She eyes the pool as though she’s contemplating throwing me into it, then takes a threatening step in my direction before halting. “You called me banana tits.” A flush washes over her face. “Do you know how embarrassing that is to a thirteen-year-old?”
Right. I was thinking about where the pie landed. She got so mad at me that she threw the pie at my face. Only quick reflexes born from years of avoiding getting hit saved me from a face full of Bountiful Banana Cream Pie. Mean old Mrs. Lynch, the pastor’s wife, wasn’t as quick. The pie hit her square in the face.
I clear the laughter out of my throat and straighten my shoulders. “Yes?”
“Yes? Was that a question or an answer?”
I rub the stubble on my chin, trying to figure out how to diffuse this bomb. “In hindsight, yes, I can see that. But I was a kid—”
“It was sexual harassment!” She throws her hands wide. “You called attention to my breasts in front of everyone. I would never do that!”
“Now, hold on. In ninth grade, did you or did you not tell the girls in your gym class that you’d seen me changing out of my swimsuit, and I had a ‘thimble dick’?”
Her mouth snaps shut.
I laugh, shaking my head. “And we both know that was complete bullshit.”
“Okay,” she amends. “But I’m not going around leaving thimbles all over the house now, am I?”
“I’d probably laugh if you did.”
Her eye twitches. “You’re missing the point. You know your dick isn’t the size of a thimble.”
“I do, but you seem pretty confident about that fact too. Have you been taking peeks, Delilah?” I tease, wanting to keep the conversation on my faults.
“I might not have seen it, but I know enough to . . .” She falters and blows out a breath. “What I mean is, my lie was a made-up exaggeration. Yours, unfortunately, wasn’t. I had a complex about the shape of my boobs, and your asshat comment made it worse.”
“You think I was disparaging your tits?”
“Kind of hard to think otherwise.” Her tone is so pained everything in me stills.
For the first time, it fully hits me what I’m facing when it comes to Delilah. Yes, we’ve said evil shit to each other over the years. Yes, we were both accountable for our shared bad behavior. But I unknowingly did damage that has left wounds that still haven’t healed. While she was disparaging of my character, I picked apart her looks. Like an asshole. It’s clearly shaped the way she thinks I saw her—see her still.
Some might say she should have gotten over it already. But I know damn well how negative words can dig into your soul with sharp claws. I’ve spent a decade avoiding my father, hating him, and all he had to do was throw a few well-placed words my way, and I was that hurt, bewildered boy once more. Is it any different for Delilah? Somehow I doubt it.
Shaking my head, I lower my voice so she’ll be forced to hear it. “No way. Not for a fucking second.”
She blushes. “Oh, for the love of—”
“Tot, please believe me when I say that the sight of your tits in that thin top was the erotic highlight of my young life.” She has to know what she does to me. How can she not know?
Delilah sucks in a breath as though I’ve shocked her, but her gaze slides away. “Stop saying ‘tits.’ It’s crude.”
“Fine. Breasts. Happy?”
“Hardly.”
I duck my head so I can catch her gaze with mine. “I was into them. Really into them. Okay?”
She bites her bottom lip, clearly struggling to believe me. “And yet you had to tease me about them.”
“It was shitty, yes. But a necessary diversionary tactic to my thirteen-year-old lizard brain.” I take a small step closer. “I didn’t want anyone to notice that I had a raging hard-on. And forgive me for panicking, but it was my first public sight-induced erection.”
Her snort is sheer disbelief. “Your first?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Bullshit.”
“Why would I lie?” I huff out a laugh, remembering the fine pain of that childhood embarrassment. “Can you imagine my horror, going hard as a pike upon seeing the shape of my greatest nemesis’s tits?” I put my hand to my heart. “God, you have no idea. I was like Pavlov’s dog after that. One sight of your breasts, and there I went, fucking hard as a rod no matter where I was. Made me grumpy as hell.”
I’m still like Pavlov’s dog when it comes to her. She just has to be around, and I’m drooling. Like a damn dog.
“You . . .” She sucks in a breath. “I can’t believe you’re telling me this.” She starts to smile. “Mrs. Lynch never forgave me, you know. She used to call me that horrid banana-pie girl and then scuttle off in the other direction as though I was preparing for another pie launch.”