Page 142 of Flipping the Script

“Holy goddamn crap!” Adam gaped at my phone screen.

“What?” Hannah and Quinn asked at the same time, leaning up and trying to get a glimpse of whatever Adam was looking at.

“Oh god!” Adam practically shrieked, dropping my phone onto Hannah’s lap, his face a mask of horror.

“What?” she demanded, fishing my phone off her lap.

“Don’t look at it!” Adam screeched and snatched it out of her hand.

He hit the power button and put the phone on the table like it was a bomb with less than ten seconds left on the counter.

“What the hell?” Quinn asked.

“Why not?” Hannah asked.

Adam covered his eyes with his hands and scraped his fingers down his face like he was trying to pull off his skin. “I need to bleach my brain. I’m never going to unsee that.”

“Unsee what?” Hannah demanded.

Quinn picked up my phone and passed it to me. “What the hell were you looking at?”

“Nothing.” I unlocked my phone and sent Bas a quick text, giving him our signal that it was go time, then slipped my phone away. “Nothing at all.”

“You sit on a throne of lies,” Adam accused. “I’m traumatized for life.”

“Is this something we need to be worried about?” Pops asked, exchanging a concerned look with Dad.

“Should we go?” Tristan asked Quinn.

“No reason to go,” I said calmly. “Everything is fine.”

“Fine?” Adam spluttered.

I nodded, keeping my customer service smile on and folded my hands on the table serenely.

“I just saw your dick on your phone. That’s not fine.”

“Ew.” Hannah wrinkled her nose.

“Your fault for snooping,” I said pointedly. “But that wasn’t my dick.”

“It wasn’t?” Adam looked relieved for about half a second, then his earlier horror returned. “Oh god!” He squeezed his eyes closed and shook his head. “Nope, not any better.”

“What?” Hannah asked, giving Adam a gentle backhanded slap on his stomach. “Who’s was it?”

“Mine.”

Everyone swung their heads toward Bas as he stepped into the dining room, a smirk on his perfect lips.

“What?” Hannah shrieked. “Ew!”

“Told ya it’s not any better.” Adam made a face. “I’m not okay.”

“Why is your dick on his phone?” Hannah demanded.

Tristan shot Quinn a questioning look. Pops and Dad sat in stunned silence, looking between us like they couldn’t decide if they should intervene or let things play out.

“Because I sent it to him.” Bas crossed the room and stopped next to my chair.

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