Page 36 of Surviving You, Scotch and Sammy 1

“How many people have you slept with?” she asks him, but he smirks and shakes his head.

“It’s not my turn yet, baby doll. Answer your question, then it’s my turn.”

“Ugh, fine.” She looks at me and Sammy, then glancing at Marc, she looks out into the dark street instead of meeting anyone’s eyes. “Some people in this group might assume I’m a whore just because I like to flirt with boys. But, I’m actually still a virgin.”

Luc’s eyes pop wide, but Marc scoffs arrogantly. “I call bullshit. I smell a turd. I see a whore. I say this game is a waste of time, ‘cause she ain’t gonna answer truthfully.”

Luc turns to him almost angrily, dragging Meg around roughly and almost tripping her up. “Maybe she’d answer truthfully if you stopped being such a dick to her. She’s Sammy’s friend, and since Turner is whipped as shit, well, that implies Meg’s sticking around for a bit. You’re hurting the family by being a dick, Macchio. Who’s to say she’s lying? You’re a virgin too, asshole.”

Marc’s jaw drops in shock, and though I feel a little bad for him, the combination of being a little drunk, and Sammy’s taste still on my lips from minutes ago, plus the fact he is actually being a dick, I’m finding it hard to muster an ounce of sympathy. Serves him right for passing judgement.

He consciously picks his jaw up, grinding his teeth together, but he nods quickly, then goes back to kicking rocks. That’s all she’ll get. Not an apology, but a promise to shut his mouth for the rest of the night.

Luc turns them around again, and walking forward, Meg’s shoulder bumps into mine even as Sammy’s lips absentmindedly start nibbling at my neck. I stretch my neck to give her space to work.

“It’s the truth,” Meg continues. “I’ve never had sex before. Do you know how when you’re craving your favorite dessert? Like, you really want that triple chocolate mud cake or whatever. You think about it all day. You anticipate it, you get excited for it. The best time of that cake is the minutes before, when the expectation is built so high in your head. You fall in love with the cake a little bit. Your mouth waters when you think about it…”

Luc barks out a laugh. “I think you just gave me a boner thinking about chocolate cake. I’ll never be able to look in a bakery window the same way again.”

Meg snickers as they sway together and walk. “Yeah, well, anyway, the thought of the cake is amazing, but usually about halfway through the serve, the sugar starts to make you feel sick. Your belly hangs over your pants. You might even get a headache from the sweet overload.”

Luc’s brows pull together. “I don’t get it.”

“I mean, the thought of the cake is always better than the actual cake. So I flirt with boys, because that’s the fun part before the cake, but the eating it is the sex… and maybe it’s fun for a little bit, but in the end, you probably feel sick and gross about it all, because it can’t possibly live up to what you had in your mind. So by flirting, I’m enjoying the buildup. It’s win win… for me.”

“Ever think about the state of the blue balls you leave the guy with?”

She cackles drunkenly, but she adds seriously, “It’s not my responsibility to make a guy come, Luc. He can do what he wants with his dick, but putting it in me doesn’t fall into the realm of his entitlements. Not until I give him the go-ahead.”

Luc whistles through his teeth. “That’s a harsh truth, Meg.”

“Harsh, maybe. But truth, absolutely. You have sisters, right? I’ve heard about the beautiful Lenaghan family. You wouldn’t want them to do something with a guy just because he expects it.”

“Ugh,” he cries out. “Don’t put that shit in my head. They’re still babies.”

“They’ll be my age one day. What would you think if a guy implied that his blue balls were their responsibility?”

“Fuckkkkk.” Luc shoves a giggling Meg away, thrusting her against Marc’s chest where he catches her before she trips into a drunken giggling heap. He sets her on her feet, but then lets her go and moves a full ten feet away.

“That was a really shitty game of truth or dare,” Sammy declares softly, and finally, for the first time since we watched the girls arrive tonight, Marc cracks a smile.

“Alright Luc,” Sammy starts. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare, baby doll. Always dare for me.”

Twenty full minutes later, we walk down my street, and though I’d intended to walk her home, my drunk ass brought them here instead. Thankfully, my dad is working tonight, and my mom would have gone to bed ages ago. Even still, I stumble and clutch at Sammy, and I noisily shush everyone. Meg brings the bottle back to my mouth for the hundredth time tonight, and a bubble of pride swells in my stomach when I finish off the last drops of scotch, emptying the bottle and smiling conspiratorially at Meg like we’d hatched a plan and just executed it perfectly. I squint my eyes as we approach my house, and a girly snigger escapes my lips when I spot Angelo leaning against his Charger with his arms folded across his chest and his ankles crossed. He smirks arrogantly as our rag tag group move closer. Leaning back into his car, he pulls out a few cans of soda, not the beer I was kind of hoping for.

“Angelo.” I rush forward and hug him, and it’s not until his and Sammy’s heads bash together that I remember she’s still on my back. She cackles out a tipsy laugh, and Angelo holds me steady as my swaying turns to dangerous levels. Sammy should probably jump ship soon, or risk falling and getting squished under me, but then again, under me might be a nice place for her to be--

“Took you jackasses long enough. I’ve been waiting ages.”

“Shhhhh!” My shush was loud enough to wake the dead, and when Angelo shakes his head at me, he looks to Meg and eyes off her empty liquor bottle.

“You idiots have fun?”

“Can I get some of that soda?” Sammy asks him as she climbs down off my back stiffly. Angelo passes her a Coke and she cracks the top instantly, tipping it up to her dry lips and chugging. Watching her throat move as she glugs the liquid should be sensual, right? Instead, my stomach rolls and I place my hand down on my mailbox for balance.

Angelo leans down in front of me. “You good dude? You’re green.”

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