“Peachy.”
“Have a good time?”
“Yes.”
I’m golden. She won’t break me.
She takes a sip from her tea. “You and Dom get on okay?”
I’m drowning in my own sweat. “We got it on okay—or, what I actually meant to say was we got on just fine.”
“Lovely.”
“Quite.”
“Indeed.”
“Totally.”
“His bed is really soft, isn’t it?” she asks innocently.
“I wouldn’t know,” I say. “I slept in the spare room.”
“Did you?”
“Sure did.”
“So, Ben’s room.”
Oh fuck. “Yes.”
“You slept in Ben’s room.”
“Yeah.”
She laughs. “In his racecar bed, huh?”
Son of a bitch! Did he have a racecar bed? “I pretended I was driving really fast,” I told her, spilling my tea all over myself.
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
“Fascinating.”
“I agree.”
“Tyson?”
“Yes?”
“Ben doesn’t have a racecar bed. It’s just a normal bed.”
“You liar!” I shout at her.
“You little shit!” she says with a grin. “So it finally happened, huh?”
“I have no idea what you mean.”