“Why so irritated? The boys didn’t let you sleep last night? Too much sex?”
I ask the question lightly, but she blushes like a stop sign.
Oh.
“I was meaning to ask you…” I pull my hair up in a ponytail and add glittery unicorn hairpins to contain the wisps trying to escape. “How does a dildo get stuck?”
“What?” Her eyes have gone round. “Stuck where?”
“Remember Simone?”
“Yes?”
“She said it happened to her.”
Candy licks her lips, glances around us, at two girls getting dressed at the other end of the room. She looks a little nervous.
I wonder why.
“What kind of dildo did she use? There are some really large ones, and…” She sighs. “What the hell did she do?”
“She managed to take it out in the end,” I reassure her. “But she’s sworn off dildos, like, forever. And you know I bought one for myself, but I’ve hesitated to use it because of—”
“Can’t we talk about this at home?” She shoots the two girls another look. They are staring at us.
Huh.
“Sure. In any case, I’m not sure I’ll use it. The dildo, I mean. I am saving myself for Ryan. But Simone mentioned using it at the back—”
“Bry. Let’s go.” Candy grabs my arm and hauls me out of the locker room, her expression stormy.
Uh-oh. “What did I say?”
“I’ve had enough embarrassing conversations in front of people to last a lifetime. Come home with me later, if you want to talk about this. Hell, you can ask Jet and Joel if you like. I’ll pretend I’m not listening.”
I laugh. “How can you be such a prude? You’re engaged to two hotties who won’t let you sleep all night. I’m only asking you about dildos, and you turn red like a tomato.”
“Maybe I don’t want the whole world to know everything about my sex life, did you think about that? Something called privacy?”
“Pff.” I drape my towel over the seat of my bike. “It’s overrated.”
“My privacy, Bry. It’s not overrated if it’s important to me.”
Shaking my head, I set the speed and grab the handles of my bike. I like exercising, getting into the rhythm, feel
ing my muscles work. “Fine, fine. I’ll ask your boyfriends.”
She mutters something I don’t catch as she sets her own bike to a low speed and starts pedaling.
“So…I need your help,” I say.
She makes another unintelligible sound. Then, “What now?”
“Ryan.”
“What about Mr. Douchebag? Don’t tell me you asked him out again.”
“Oh no.” I shake my head for emphasis. “I’ve been ignoring him for the past few days.”