“I would have interrupted sex to talk to you about a closet foursome. What kind of friend do you think I am?”
“The best kind.”
“So, dish. Or I’m going to question you in front of our entire class.”
“Let’s have coffee after class.”
“No, you’re being the worst kind of friend,” Celine moans. “The kind who delays sharing gratification. I’ve always told you how hot your stepbrothers are, and now you have some dirt on them, you’re leaving me in the cold, dark wasteland of not-knowingsville.”
“Don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic?” I laugh, sticking the car into park. “I’m not going to walk through campus spilling my guts.”
“It’s the talk of the campus already, my friend. How do you think I found out?”
I slam my car door with too much force. “Seriously, do people have nothing better to do than gossip about me? I’m so boring.”
“It’s not you. It’s those Townsend boys. Anything they do is the subject of the whispering and speculation.”
“I’m glad to hear I’m so popular,” I scoff.
“Popular, now you’re in with the Townsend triplets. Don’t tell Eddie, but I’d pay good money to be the ham in that club sandwich…in another dimension, obs.”
I’m striding toward our lecture hall when I see Celine waving frantically. We both hang up our phones and she tugs me into a fierce hug. “Let’s get in there,” I say before Prof. Dork has an aneurysm."
Throughout the class, I can’t focus. Should I tell Celine what’s happening later? She’s not judgy at all, but I know she won’t keep quiet if she thinks I’m making a mistake.
Once a dare has been given, I don’t want to debate the pros and cons anymore. That’s the beauty of the dare.
“Miss Franklin. Are you with us?” Professor Derkson yells, and I jump from my trancelike state back to reality.
“Yes, Sir,” I say, my hands poised over my laptop. “Sorry.”
He scrunches his face so that his gray caterpillar eyebrows almost obliterate his eyes, but he carries on with whatever he was droning on about before. Celine scribbles ‘Lost in a sex dream’ on the corner of her notepad.
Ugh. This is what I was worried about. Already, real life is creeping in to disturb my dare-inspired fantasy life.
After class, when I’ve packed up my things, Celine links arms with me. “Right. I’m not taking no for an answer. You will tell me what’s gotten you losing concentration in Dorksons class.”
She practically frog-marches me to the cute coffee shop on this side of campus. It has a giant brown coffee bean character outside, grinning with his thumbs up, and inside, it’s all distressed wood and black metal. Industrial chic combined with animation. What’s not to love?
“Two caramel Frappuccino and don’t be stingy with the cream,” Celine says to the guy behind the counter. Max is used to her demanding ways and rolls his eyes theatrically. She pays before I pull out my phone and strides over to our favorite table in the corner, which has been strangely available the last few times we’ve met up.
“While Max is slowly whipping our drinks to perfection, spill.” She rests her head on her hands expectantly.
“It sounds like you already know what happened.” I shrug and pick up a packet of sugar, letting the grains fall back and forth inside the paper envelope.
“What I know is that you had seven minutes in the closet with your stepbrothers and came out looking flushed. Speculation is that you all fucked in there, but I call that bullshit because there’s no way one of those men could finish in seven minutes, let alone three of them.”
“You’re assuming they would have gone one after another,” I say before I realize what I’m insinuating.
“Fuck, yeah. Is that what happened? There are three of them. You have three holes. Was it a centipede situation?”
“Centipede! That doesn’t sound sexy at all.”
“You know what I mean. One joined being with many legs.”
“That is gross and also strangely clever,” I laugh.
“FRAPPUCCINO WITH EXTRA CREAM,” Max yells from the counter. Celine stands and struts to grab our drinks.
“Thank you, Maxy-Waxy,” she croons.
“Please don’t call me that,” he pleads as the customers waiting in the queue snigger.
She places my drink in front of me but doesn’t let go of it. “The Frappuccino isn’t a free coffee, my darling. The one who drinks it must tell all or suffer a curse akin to sleeping beauty.” Her voice lowers at the end like an old-world storyteller foretelling doom.
“I’ll tell you,” I huff, grabbing the drink.
I swear Celine’s eyebrows hit her hairline. She almost misses her chair when she sits; her eyes are so concentrated on me.
“Dornan dared me to play the stupid game.”
“I knew it had to be a dare,” she gasps. “There was no way that sensible Miss Ellie was going to join in something ridiculous like that without being nudged into it.”