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“From the pound shop,” Lizzie added sarcastically.

“Why are you trying to ruin this for me?” Claire demanded, glaring at Lizzie. “This is supposed to be a fun bonding moment.”

“Have you ever shaved down there before, Claire?” Lizzie asked.

Claire frowned. “No.”

“Well, if you had, you’d know that I’m not trying to ruin anything for you, I’m trying to save you both from friction burn,” Lizzie drawled. “But whatever, go right ahead and scalp yourself. Just don’t come running to me when you’re walking around like a constipated cowboy.”

“Well, I think it’s a great idea,” Claire enthused.

“Of course you do,” Lizzie mocked. “God, you’re so clueless.”

“Ignore her, Shan,” Claire said, turning her back to Lizzie and giving me a bright smile. “We can do it together.”

“I’m not doing that with you.” I laughed. “That’s strange, Claire.”

“I didn’t mean doing it sitting side by side in the bathtub,” she snickered. “We’ll take turns.”

“Well, if you two are planning on going all Edward Scissorhands on your fannies for the evening, I’m off home to catch up on my soaps,” Lizzie announced as she climbed off the bed and strolled toward the door. “Have the first aid kit on hand, Shan, you’re going to need it,” she added before sauntering out of the room.

My eyes widened. “First aid kit?”

Claire rolled her eyes. “She’s lying.”

“Oh god, I don’t know about this,” I mumbled, feeling uncertain.

“Come on,” Claire coaxed. “Live dangerously.”

“Are you sure?”

“Why not?” Grinning devilishly, she shrugged. “I’ll even go first.”

Twenty minutes later, Claire hobbled back into her bedroom, cheeks flushed, legs spread apart. “Bathroom’s free, Shan,” she bit out as she thrust the can of shaving foam into my hands.

“Oh my god!” I gasped. “Are you okay?”

“All good,” she replied with a grimace as she gingerly lowered herself onto the mattress. “It’s your turn.”

“Claire, I really don’t know about this.” I eyed her suspiciously and the way she was fanning herself. “You look like you’re in pain.”

“Shannon, I did this for you!” She narrowed her eyes. “It’syourturn.”

My mouth fell open. “No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did,” she accused. “I’m trying to help you. This was my not-so-subtle way of doing it.”

“How?” I gaped at her. “How in the name of god is this going tohelpme?”

“WithJohnny,” she explained. “You’re going to his house tonight, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“Exactly!” she replied. “What do I need to shave my pooch for? I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Your pooch?” I frowned. “You call it apooch?”

“Pooch, puss—meh, it’s all the same,” she replied, waving a dismissive hand around. “The point is I don’t need to shave. Nobody is sticking their face in my knickers.”

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