Page 43 of The Charlie Method

That gets me another howl. “What?How?”

“I bought the wrong kind,” I explain. I can’t stop my own giggle now. “So basically, when I was twelve, my older sister was dating this guy in high school, and I found a box of Super Magnums inside her nightstand drawer when I was snooping around—”

“SuperMagnums?”

“Yeah, they’re twice the size of regular Magnums. Ava caught me snooping, and we ended up having a whole birds-and-bees talk, including how a woman should always have agency over her own birth control and keep her own box of condoms on hand. I asked why she bought that brand, and Ava said those were the most comfortable.” I snort. “I thought she meant more comfortable forher. I didn’t realize she meant more comfortable for his ginormous penis. So the day my parents left for their trip, I went to the drugstore and bought a box of Super Magnums. When the condom he brought broke, I gave him one of mine, and I swear to God, this thing was hanging off his penis like a loose plastic bag.”

Blake collapses on the tabletop, shuddering with laughter. “Ican’t. I’m gonna pee my pants.”

“Okay, I gotta hear this punch line,” says a male voice.

I freeze in my seat when I realize it’s Isaac Grant.

What is hedoinghere?

The one and only time we hung out was in a clandestine parking lot. Like some sort of hostage exchange, if the hostages are bodily fluids. He knows better than to talk to me in public.

Only…he’s not looking at me.

“You left me on read,” he says in accusation.

I try very hard to keep my jaw shut. Huh? How do these two even know each other?

For a second, I feel prickle of jealousy and maybe a tiny bit insulted that he’s pretending not to know me. But when his gaze flicks toward me and he gives the most imperceptible of smiles, I realize he’s simply doing what I asked.We don’t speak in public after thiswas one of the rules I gave before I stuck my tongue in his mouth.

“Who’s this?” I ask Blake, playing dumb.

Now his smile fully takes hold. “I’m Isaac.”

“He plays football or something,” Blake tells me.

I clamp my teeth down on my lip.Plays football or something. This is literally the star of the team. Last season, he was voted MVP over the team’s quarterback.

Isaac narrows his eyes on her. “You wanna dance?”

“I don’t like to dance.”

“Cool. Then we can just stand there.”

“I don’t like to stand. Also”—she gestures toward me—“we’re in the middle of a conversation.”

“Come find me after your conversation?”

“Sure, I’ll text you.” With a pointed look, she waits for him to leave.

I can practically see a vein throbbing in his forehead as he stalks off.

I lean out of the booth to peek at where he’s headed. The game area, where two very large linesmen are circling one of the pool tables. They’re out of place here. Probably because this isn’t their place. Just because I don’t watch hockey doesn’t mean I’m not aware that Malone’s is the hockey bar. The bar down the street is where the football players gather, at least when they leave their houses. Those guys tend to keep their partying more discreet, while the hockey guys don’t care about being rowdy in public.

“What was that about?” I ask in amusement.

“My friend Diana introduced us at a frat party, and now he has a crush on me.”

I’ve never heard anyone sound more unenthused.

“You realize ninety-five percent of the women at this college—and probably general society—would be thrilled that Isaac Grant has a thing for them?”

“Ha! So youdoknow who he is?”

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