Page 14 of Into the Woods

Without missing a beat, Cami popped the cork, lifted the bottle to her lips, and drank. Five gulps later, she set the bottle at her feet and waved a hand at me. “Okay. Continue.”

I eyed the bottle, spotting part of the label. “Jesus, Camille! That’s a thousand-dollar bottle of champagne!”

She gave me a duh look. “And? It’s the cheapest thing Mémé has in the wine cellar, B. You raided it enough with me over the years to know that.”

“Uh-uh.” I wagged a finger at her. “You raided. I was the idiot you conned into being your lookout.”

She swiped the bottle and took another pull. “You were a shitty lookout. What kind of accomplice says, ‘In the wine cellar!’ when their mom calls out for them?”

“The kind who was fourteen and not ready to be grounded for the rest of her natural life,” I grumbled. “If you wanted a Bonnie to your Clyde, you should have picked someone who wouldn’t break under the scrutiny of maternal inquisitions.”

Cami narrowed her eyes. “Don’t use your big fancy words on me, Bex. And I’m freaking Bonnie. You can be Clyde.”

“Fine,” I muttered, shooting her a grumpy pout.

“Now stop stalling and tell me all about tall, dark, and sexy,” Cami demanded.

I gave her a look.

“What? You’re gonna tell me he didn’t grow up gorgeous?” She snorted and took another drink. “I met him once, the summer I came to the States when I was eleven, and I’m pretty sure I was still imagining him the first time I masturbated at thirteen.”

“You remember the first time you…” I hated that word, so I stumbled over saying it.

Cami arched a perfect brow. “Flicked the bean? DJ’d my downstairs?”

I groaned. “Oh, God, stop.”

But Cami was on a roll. “Buttered my muffin? Jilled off? Pet the kitty? Diddled my—”

“Stop!” I shouted with a laugh, reaching back for a pillow and hurling it at her head. Heat radiated off my cheeks.

“—skittle,” she managed from behind a wall of foam. She grinned at me as she tossed the pillow aside.

“You’re such a dork,” I huffed.

“Spoken like a girl who doesn’t routinely do the three-knuckle shuffle,” she teased.

“Where the hell did you learn all that?” I asked, exasperated.

“I went to an all-girls ballet academy my entire academic career,” she deadpanned. “I can also curse in six languages. But we’re not talking about my formerly pathetic life, we’re talking about yours.”

Oh, yeah. Right.

“So,” she said, waving her hands, “you were telling me about how you finally got to screw the man of your dreams?”

My cheeks were now five-alarm-fire hot. “What? No. First of all, I didn’t. And second of all, ‘man of my dreams’ is a bit of a stretch.”

Cami reached over and took my hand. “B, I love you, but I also know that you’ve been obsessed with Court Woods since you were an infant. And I’m not giving you shit for it, because, trust me, I get it. Even at thirteen years old? He was so gorgeous. Tall, that chocolate brown hair, and those eyes that—”

I made a small, annoyed sound in the back of my throat.

Her eyes snapped open wide. “Did you just growl at me?”

I folded my arms, refusing to answer that question.

She held up her hands. “Message received. You’re still just as territorial over him as you were when you were a kid.”

“I was not,” I snapped.

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