“Never.” I let her wipe off my nose. I’d earned that. “And what’s wrong with being boy crazy?”
“Nothing,” Ramona answered for Veronica and in my defense. “You’re happy chasing all that dick, and it’s super entertaining to watch.”
“Thank you,” I said gratefully and stuck my tongue out at Veronica.
“You’re welcome. If we were on The Golden Girls, you’d be Blanche.”
A laugh shot out of me. “Duh, she’s my spirit guide. A different beau every episode. A drawer full of crotchless panties. A lot of dramatic flailing.” I licked my cone with my eyes on Blondie, who was still watching me too. “And Veronica would be Dorothy. Forever single and an absolute killjoy.”
Veronica rolled her eyes. I heard it from behind her sunglasses.
“Who would I be?” Ramona asked.
“Sophia, except taller. Or Rose but with less anecdotes about cows.”
We broke into more giggling. Maybe the heat was making us punchy.
“Anyway, the dick-lip thing works for women too.”
Veronica chuffed. “Oh? You can tell the color of our dicks?”
“I wonder if it would apply to a clit.” I hummed thoughtfully. “But no, our lips are the same color as our nipples.”
Ramona froze, her red lips dropping open in a little O. “Oh my God, it’s true.”
“I know it is.” Eyes locked on Blondie, I stuck out my tongue to swirl around the top of my cone. I closed my lips over the top of it real slow, making a show of it.
He gripped the edge of the table.
Ramona shook her head. “I’m never leaving the house without lipstick on again.”
Veronica snorted.
“Isn’t it weird?” I asked. “It’s like nature was like, This is your mouth. It’s for eating and putting genitals in. Let me color-code that into your brain, so you don’t forget that lips are for food and fucking.”
Ramona chuckled. “Only you, Penny.”
I put up one hand and shook my head. “Blame nature, not me. Lips are so sexual. Why do you think women wear lipstick? We want men — or women, if you swing that way — to notice our mouths, but we don’t really give their lips the consideration they deserve. Blondie’s lips are soft and smooth, and I bet his dick is too. I bet he kisses like a god and fucks like a porn star.”
Veronica laughed and stood. “All right, that’s enough out of you. Let’s go. If we stay any longer, you’re going to face-rape that poor, unsuspecting man you’ve been taunting with your sexual salted caramel.”
“Sexual a-salt.” As she pulled me out of my chair, I licked my lips, my eyes still on Blondie. “I wonder what he’d look like under a little salted caramel.”
Ramona playfully pushed me in the shoulder, and I followed the girls, twiddling my fingers at Blondie as we walked away from the shop, laughing.
Her hips swung as she walked away, and I sat there like an idiot with ice cream dripping down my hand.
“Dude.” My twin brother, Jude, slapped me in the arm, sending my cone teetering.
I scowled at him. “What the fuck, man?”
“You weren’t even listening.”
“You’re right. I was too busy watching one of the hottest girls I’ve ever seen lick her ice cream like it was her job.”
He looked around. “Where?”
“She’s gone.”
“Man, why didn’t you tell me?”
I smirked. “Because I saw her first.”
Phil rolled his eyes from across the table. “You guys argue like sisters.”
“That’s what happens when you share a womb for nine months.” I took a bite of my waffle cone, still thinking about her.
Her hair was a soft shade of purple, tied up in a bun, and her face was framed by a blue bandana, tied on top. She looked like a pinup girl, and when she’d stood and walked away, I’d caught sight of the sweetest heart-shaped ass. I couldn’t help but imagine my hands around it and my face buried in her—
Jude slapped my arm again. “You’re drooling, asshole.”
I punched him in the bicep. “Lay off.”
He rubbed the spot where I’d hit him and frowned.
Phil shook his head and propped his skinny forearms on the table. “I miss the days when you guys were more worried about your Magic: The Gathering deck and binging on Snickers bars than girls.”
Jude smirked. “Ah, the great sexual drought of our teenage years.”
Phil made a face and pushed his glasses up his long nose. “Easy, guys. Some of us never outgrow that curse.”
“Aw, come on, Phil. You’ve got Angie.”
“True, and I love her. And, beyond all reason, she loves me too. Fortunately, Ang doesn’t give a shit that I’ll never be a blond, buff Bobbsey twin.”
I shook my head. “You should have gotten into surfing with us, Philly.”
He gave me a flat look. “First off, there’s no real surfing in Berkeley. Second, sharks.”
Jude laughed. “I get it, man. If Dad hadn’t guilted us into learning before we left for college, we wouldn’t have either. But even if we hadn’t, you don’t live in Santa Monica without becoming a surfer.”