Page 61 of The Breaking Point

The full moon through my window was enough illumination to see Grace grin. “Serves you right,” she shot back.

I waited for her to explain why she was in my room. It was then I realized I was wearing only my boxers and nothing else. I grabbed a pillow and covered my crotch, embarrassed.

“What are you doing in here?” I hissed.

To my surprise—and dismay—Grace sat down on my bed. “Who was the girl?”

I groaned. “Grace, what the hell—”

“Tell me, or I’m going to go wake up my parents and tell them what you did.”

“Tattletale.”

Grace crossed her arms, waiting. “Is she your girlfriend?”

Samantha? Hell no. “She’s just a friend.” I sounded defensive now.

“Did you have sex with her?”

I nearly choked on my own saliva. I coughed into my fist, hoping I wasn’t so loud as to wake anybody else up.

I was shaking my head and saying, “What is wrong with you?”

“Hey, I just wanted to know the details.” Grace smoothed a hand over my comforter. “Well, did you?”

“No. Jesus.”

She seemed mollified by my answer, at least. But she didn’t seem in a rush to leave either.

She was picking at a string on my comforter when she said, “You said before that I could come to you if I had a problem. Right?”

I was wary as I replied, “Sure.”

She took a deep breath like she was preparing herself. “What’s sex like?” she finally blurted.

I gaped at her. And then my body reacted because my brain was instantly filled with images of kissing Grace, touching Grace, taking Grace’s clothes off—

“I’m not answering that question,” I growled.

She looked surprised. “Why not? I want to know if it’s as good as everyone says it is. At least what boys say. Girls don’t seem like they like it as much. Why is that?”

I’d had sex before, but not as much as Grace had imagined. Not a lot of girls wanted to sleep with a foster kid like me, especially in this town full of rich kids.

Grace was fourteen, though. Too young to think about having sex.

You were having sex at fourteen,I reminded myself.

“I’m not talking to you about sex,” I said.

“I can’t go to anyone else in my family. My parents would freak out, and Ben is my brother—”

“I’m your brother.”

That made Grace look away. “Not really,” she mumbled.

I didn’t know how to respond to that. Then, as if from a dream, Grace touched my leg like she had on the couch.

I realized she was doing this to get my attention. Was she just fucking with me? Or did she really like me?

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