Page 162 of Fighting the Forbidden

He reaches over and pats my leg. “It’s fine, Muffin. No worse than the shit talk that went down in locker rooms when I was in high school.”

“What? Really?”

“Yeah. The year I played football was awkward as fuck. Some of the other dudes on the team were obsessed with checking out everyone else’s equipment.”

“That’s, uh, creepy.”

He snorts but his mouth flattens into a thin line. “They wanted to compare everything—dick size, ball size, ball stretchy-ness?—”

“What?” I practically scream. “Why?”

“I don’t fucking know,” he scoffs. “They did all sorts of weird shit. This one fucker, Timmy Puck, snuck up on me in the shower once, then ran around telling everyone else mine was the biggest and had everyone call me Flagpole for the rest of the season.”

I glance over and his face has taken on a pink hue. “That’s deranged. No one ever pointed out it was weird to be peeping on your teammates?”

“Nope. They’d yell, ‘Prank!’” Griff pitches his voice higher. “Or ‘just for research!’ but it was uncomfortable as hell.”

“Ugh. I’m sorry.” I wish I’d never started this conversation. The last thing I want to do is make him relive crappy high school memories.

“Given the choice, I’d rather have girls talking about me, than guys.” He slides his hand over my leg. “Although, I won’t ever be able to look any of your friends in the eye again.”

“Girls aren’t much better.” I cross my arms over my chest. “In sixth grade, Cindy Adams stole one of my bras after gym class and showed it to everyone.”

“What?” He glances over. “Why?”

“Because she was a bitch?” Heat flames across my face. “I was already almost a C-cup and no one else in our class was, I guess?”

“Shit, Molly, I didn’t know that happened.”

“I sure as hell wasn’t telling anyone.” I lower my voice. “Mom hadn’t been gone long. Nana’s the one who had to take me bra shopping, which was embarrassing enough. I wasn’t doing it again. I kicked Cindy’s ass to get my bra back.”

He chuckles. “Good girl.”

“She didn’t mess with me after that, but everyone still called me Boobzilla for weeks.”

He mashes his lips together. “Kids aren’t very creative, are they?”

“No. They suck.” We’re quiet for a few seconds. “Just so you know, I didn’t confirm or deny my friends’ guesses about your, um, size.”

“Thank you, Muffin. That mystery belongs to you.”

I snicker and stare out the window.

“Uh, just to be clear,” Griff says. “Your brother and I never did weird shit like whipping it out and comparing ourselves.”

“Gross.” I stick out my tongue and gag. “I’m not surprised. Remy’s so convinced that he’s God’s gift to women, I can’t see him bothering to compare himself to anyone.” I shiver with revulsion. “But don’t worry—I’ve overheard some of the dingbats he likes to bang yapping about his ‘stallion status.’” I lean forward and pretend to retch. “I needed a lobotomy after that.”

Griff chokes and pounds his fist against his chest. “Shit, that’s a disgusting thing for a sister to hear.”

“Thank you! Sheesh!” I throw my hands in the air.

When we finally pull into my driveway, Griff asks me to wait and hurries to open my door, offering his hand.

“Thanks.” I slide onto the sidewalk and stare up at Griff. “For listening to that and not making me feel bad. I never told anyone the Cindy Adams story.” I roll my eyes. “I mean everyone in sixth grade knew, but…”

He leans down and brushes a kiss to my forehead. “I never told anyone the flagpole story,” he whispers.

“Not even Remy?”

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