Page 43 of Because of Logan

“It was a twenty.”

When we were kids—teens, really—River came up with a kissing scale from one to ten on how good a kisser a boy was. Silly teenage stuff, and we hadn't used the scale in years.

“That good, huh?”

“God, yes. And then we drove back to his house, and he cooked and baked. Can you believe it? He made lasagna and baked me a birthday cake. He even had garlic bread. And it was delicious. We talked a lot, and he gave me this bracelet.”

I show her my wrist.

River fingers the charms with a smile on her face.

“And this.”

I reach to my nightstand, put the coffee down, and show her the book.

“Son of a bitch. He got it. I thought this book wasn’t out until next week.”

“It isn’t. He emailed the author and asked her about the book, and she mailed it to him. I still can’t believe this is happening. I expect to wake up at any minute now and be disappointed that was just a dream. Thank you, by the way, for the part you played in it.”

“I didn’t do anything other than answer his questions. Can’t take credit for it.”

River watches me, and I know what she’ll ask next.

“Did you sleep with him?”

“No. I wanted to. But, you know me.”

That’s a first too. I’ve never felt so attracted to a guy that I wanted to sleep with him.

River nods at me.

“I think it’s better this way. Let him marinate a little.”

“What about you? How was the strip club?”

“Ugh.”

“Not good?”

“It was okay until Becca got really drunk and puked on one of the guys and we got escorted out.”

“No!”

“Yep. It was my birthday, and she’s the one who got drunk. I had one margarita, and she was already five tequila shots into the night. Her last boy toy found someone else, and you know how she is with that. She doesn’t take rejection very well.”

“I don’t understand. She doesn’t even like those guys. She uses them for a few weeks and then moves to the next one. Why would she care if they move on?”

“She doesn’t care if they move on. She cares if she's not the one to dump them. Becca has major control and abandonment issues.”

“Her way to deal with it is to break up with them first?”

“I’ve tried talking to her, but she shuts down and tells me I don’t have a psychology degree yet, so save it for someone who needs real help. And then she tells me I have a hang-up because I’m not hooking up with a different guy every other week. Been there, done that. This is not high school or freshman year anymore. I’m kind of tired of the same old jocks and guys who can’t have an interesting conversation. Last night, this one dude walked up to me and asked me if I wanted to fuck. No hello, no can I buy you a drink, no nothing. Stick it in dry, will you?”

“What an ass. I wonder if that line ever works in real life. I mean, how often does a guy walk up to a strange girl and asks if she wants to fuck and she says yes, please, I was sitting here waiting for someone to come up and ask me that.”

“I know. I guess there’s nothing wrong with it, if that’s what you want. But I’d like, just once, for a guy to look me in the eyes for more than five seconds instead of at my tits.”

“At least you have tits.”

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