“First, show me the rolls and then tell us about your boy trouble.”
“What boy trouble?” I opened the cabinet shelf and pulled out plates for them while they settled on the stools, looking at the glazed cinnamon rolls with heart-eyes.
“You never make cinnamon rolls,” Em said, looking at them pointedly. “Unless you have a boy trouble.”
“I don’t do that.” I frowned, serving the rolls and crossing my arms. “I make cinnamon rolls.”
“No, you don’t. The last time you made them was a year ago when that guy from PE asked you out—oh this is so fugging goof,” Summer said with a mouthful of food while Emma took a small bite and chewed, swallowed, patted her lips with a napkin, and looked at me.
“You also baked them when Aaron asked you out on a Halloween date,” she answered.
I blinked at both of them.I stress bake cinnamon rolls?!
“So spill. What’s the boy trouble?”
I thought about James and shook my head. He was definitely not a boy or a trouble—unless I brat out.
“It’s nothing.” I cleared my throat and looked anywhere but at their eyes. “I think I got over stress baking—anyway, do you wanna watch a movie or swim?”
Summer shared a look with Em before piling another roll onto their plates. I made a huge batch so I could take it to the hospital for Dad and his sweet nurses. I checked my phone for any notifications as we went upstairs to watch a movie in my room.
James:I’ll be late. There might be leftover lasagna and your birthday cake. Eat your dinner on time.
Me:Yes, Dad
James:…
James:You forgot something, Princess.
I rolled my eyes and typed out a reply ‘Yes, Daddy’ before looking up at the scene in my room. It didn’t look like I had sex, but my friends had sharp eyes.
Emma frowned, clutching her stomach. “I think I might’ve gotten my periods.”
Summer and I cooed at her as she went to my ensuite. If she had started hers, then mine would be in a week or so. I was sprawled with Summer on the bed when Emma opened the door to the washroom, her face pale, and called for me.
“What is it?” I asked, concern lacing my voice. “Does it hurt too much? I’ve a heating pad—”
“I saw a condom in the bin.”
My eyes widened as she held my arm and walked us out of the room into the hallway. “Why do you have a condom in your bathroom, Mia?”
I crossed my arms and sputtered out, “I-I’m eighteen.”
She narrowed her sharp eyes. “It was a used condom, M.”
I pursed my lips and before I could utter, Summer joined in the conversation. “Did someone pop Mia’s cherry? On her eighteenth?” She was beaming. “Did you have a birthday sex? I’m so happy and jealous!”
The only response I could voice was a sad little noise from the back of my throat.
“Who was it?” Emma asked, touching my arm. “It’s okay if you don’t want to tell us, but was it okay?”
I saw stars, Emma.
I took a shaky breath and replied, “I-it was. I’m sorry I can’t tell you who it was, but I promise I took care of myself—he took care of me and it was… great.”It was out of this world.
“By the flush on your cheeks, we can imagine, M.” Summer nudged my shoulder and wriggled her brows, “At least give us a hint. Was he at the pool party?”
I nodded, and she whopped before holding both of our hands with wide eyes.