Like a cheap suit on a sultry day.
As if reading my thoughts, she leans her elbows on the table and gives me a sly smile. “He’s totally hot, in a bad-boy rocker kind of way. Which is weird considering his job.”
“Bashing into people?” I laugh without humor. “Yeah, totally bizarre that he looks like a bad boy.”
“Sarcastic is not a good look on you.”
I stick my tongue out at her.
“Spill, Fiona May.”
“Shit,” I drawl. “You pulled out the middle name. That’s harsh.”
She crosses her arms over her chest and waits.
“There’s nothing to tell.”
Unlike Ivy, I actually have a poker face. That’s one thing I learned from our dad. Never let them see you flinch.
But Ivy knows me well, so maybe I’m not fooling her. Or maybe she simply decides to give me a break, because she suddenly shrugs and grabs a slice of bread, slathering on blackberry jam.
“Dex is kind of…” She pauses, knife in mid-air. “Different.”
“Different?” Okay, I know he’s quiet. And obviously whip smart; he managed me with a deftness that scares me. But different?
Ivy sets her bread down, and her voice lowers. “He’s really sensitive. In a good way, but…Gray thinks he might be a Tebow.”
“What the fuck do you mean ‘a Tebow’?” And why am I so annoyed? “You mean that whole kneeling and praying thing?”
She leans forward. “No. A virgin.”
I swear all the blood rushes out of my face. “What? No way. He’s…well, he’s fucking hot.” Okay, that slipped. “And he…” I bite my lip to keep from saying he sure as hell didn’t kiss like a virgin.
Only it’s been so long since I kissed a virgin, I’m not sure how one kisses, or if the way someone kisses is even a marker of sexual experience. I mean, sex is a lot more than inserting peg A into slot B—at least it should be.
I cover my slip with another truth. “He’s got to be twenty-four. How on earth could he be a virgin? Is it for religious reasons?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t think he’s at all religious. Honestly, I don’t know why he’d be a virgin either. And it’s not something that Gray or his college teammates ever openly talked about, which is saying something.”
“Then maybe we shouldn’t be gossiping about it now.” I know I sound snappish, which is unfair to Ivy; we gossip about everything. But it feels wrong talking about Dex this way.
Ivy blinks as though I hurt her, and I feel worse. But then she gives a small nod as if she understands. “Look,” she says in a low voice. “I’m only mentioning it because… Hell. If you did fool around with him last night, or whatever, just be careful with him.”
I can’t help but laugh, though it hurts my throat. “What? Am I some sort of man-eater now?”
“No. Of course not. But Dex isn’t hookup material.”
“I think you should let Dex decide that for himself, seeing as he’s a grown man and all. And before you start in on me again, I’m not going to do anything with him. Jesus. We only hung out an hour at most.” And kissed like we were dying for it. “That’s all.”
Liar, liar, liar.
My knuckles press against the table. I should be enough for me. I shouldn’t feel lonely. Fuck. Maybe I’m getting hormonal or something.
Thankfully, I don’t have to wallow in my weird maudlin mood because the front door opens, and Dex and Gray amble in. My heart rate kicks up, seeing Dex’s massive frame outlined in the doorway.
Gray zeroes in on Ivy. “Is he sleeping?”
“I put him down twenty minutes ago.”
Baby G might not sleep at night, but he naps like a champ, a good two hours at a stretch. Something Gray knows better than I do.