He’d spent the night with her, but no one could know that. He’d made it clear that no one could find out. He made it clear that no one could know they were becoming friends and that stung.
She’d liked him. Crazy as it seemed, she thought they had a connection. She could talk to him and he was willing to watch her favorite movies and listen to all her theories. She had a good time with a guy and it hadn’t involved making out. When he asked her to keep it quiet, he’d cheapened it. She hadn’t even kissed him, but she felt dirty.
His dirty little secret.
If that’s what she was to him, then she might as well act the part. So she had licked that ice cream off the spoon in the naughtiest way possible.
Yeah, that had been wrong, and as much as she wanted to chalk it up as a lesson for Emmaline, she knew hanging out with these girls was wrong, too.
It was the kind of thing other people did. It was the kind of thing normal girls did. Not Hayden. Hayden had never been a normal girl. She wasn’t one of them.
Not since . . . well, not since ever.
Girlhood was reserved for those who didn’t feel compelled to hide a bug-out bag in their closet. For girls who hadn’t had to fend for themselves since the age of four. For girls who didn’t know the phone numbers to all the local dive bars.
Sometimes Hayden would have to hunt down her mom if she was desperate enough. If the fridge was empty. If the power went out. If some angry guy was pounding at the door and windows, yelling threats for her mother.
Once one of Mom’s boyfriends forced his way into the house and tore the place apart, searching for her mother’s stash. She’d tried to stay out of his way. She’d tucked herself into a corner and cried when he ransacked her room. He’d used a knife to slash through her bedding. For a moment he had looked at her with such crazed eyes, she’d feared he would turn that knife on her. When he couldn’t find what he wanted, he’d destroyed the place even more out of retaliation.
Hayden was nothing like these girls. She had nothing in common with them. She never would. Even once she secured a comfortable life for herself in Austin, she would never be like them. They’d be in college, living their lives of privilege, sharing stupid memes on social media and buying six-dollar coffees between classes. That would never be her.
But she couldn’t bail on tonight. As much as she’d like to, as out of place as she felt in here, she had agreed to come. She had agreed to this night, crazy as it was. She’d made a deal, and she was here now.
She’d come to this sleepover to give a “tutorial on seduction”—Emmaline’s words, not hers. The girl was a nerd, without a doubt, but delightful. She was also an expert at persuasion—and she promised Hayden seventy bucks.
Money like that was nothing to sneeze at. If Mom forgot to get groceries this week, which was not uncommon, that kind of money would keep Hayden fed and still help with gas. There might even be a little left over to stash in her honeypot. She couldn’t walk away from an offer like that.
To be honest, she was even having a little fun. But that was before she came face-to-face with Nolan Martin glowering at her in his kitchen.
He was so damn pretty, with his dark hair and mesmerizing eyes and athletic build. She shouldn’t have done the thing with the ice cream and spoon, but he kept looking at her like she was some bad seed come to taint his precious home and corrupt his family. She couldn’t stop herself from teasing him just a little.
Now she was sitting in a circle with Emmaline and her friends, talking about boys and kissing and other intimate stuff like she was a normal teenage girl who did things like this all the time.
She forced a smile and wondered if they knew.
Did they know they had a fraud in their midst and were just too polite to reveal it? She tried to hide her discomfort and tune back into the conversation going on around her. Or conversations, rather. They had multiple going on at once.
It was difficult to focus, however, knowing Nolan was right down the hall while they were talking about kissing.
This jitteriness wasn’t like her. She wasn’t someone given to awkwardness or embarrassment. She’d have to care about what others thought. Her skin was too thick for that.
“So, I don’t understand what to do with my tongue,” Sanjana was saying loudly, motioning to her mouth with Cheetos-dusted fingers. “The one time I got kissed, it was like the guy was pushing a slug in my mouth. I had to fight not to gag.”
“Wasn’t that in ninth grade? With that guy from band who had the giant Adam’s apple?” Lia clutched her knees and laughed at the memory. “I forgot about that.”
“Maybe I should hook up with him again?” Sanjana mused. “Maybe he’s better at it now?”
“Doubtful,” Monica replied. “I think he’s been as celibate as you since then. You idiots would be just as lost as you were in ninth grade.”
“Yeah,” Sanjana agreed. “Plus, he told everyone we made out . . . and that I played with his you-know-what.”
Hayden resisted rolling her eyes. She had her work cut out for her if they couldn’t even say the word.
“High school guys lying about how much action they actually get? You’re joking,” Hayden drolly intoned. She’d been the subject of more than one fictional account.
Everyone laughed at her sarcasm.
Except Emmaline. She watched solemnly and scribbled notes on her pad like there would be a test later.
Hayden searched for a way to explain how to execute a good kiss, knowing that’s what she was here for. Despite the vibe of camaraderie, she was here to provide a service for them. “Kissing is like dancing. There’s a rhythm—a give-and-take between partners . . . at least when you’re good at it. But if your partner sucks, well, you’re doomed. There’s no hope.”
“Alex definitely sucked.” Sanjana shook her head.
“How do you get good at it?” Monica asked. If Hayden didn’t already know the girl was a science geek, she would have figured it out by the way she was studying her. Monica looked at everything like it was an equation to be solved. “Especially if, as you say, your partner is equally inexperienced. Something tells me the average adolescent boy doesn’t know what to do with his tongue.” She sniffed. “I’m thinking I’ll save my first kiss for college.”
“Ha! You think some freshman at Stanford is going to come in with a wealth of kissing experience? I’m guessing you’re only going to spend time with other bioengineering geeks, and I bet they’ve spent the last four years of high school studying and not making out,” Sanjana scoffed. “If you were smart, you’d get some experience in now, and then when you get to college you’ll know what you’re doing and then you can teach those other geeks a thing or two.”
“She’s right. It does takes practice to get good at it . . . as with anything. Sports, art,” Hayden agreed. “My first kiss—” She stopped and considered it. She hadn’t thought about that in years. Her first kiss wasn’t actually that bad. She had to be a rare case, though. She didn’t want to share that story with them and give them false hope.
The quality of that first kiss probably had something to do with her partner.
There were worse boys to share a first kiss with than Beau Sanders.