Page 9 of Built to Fall
“Alright, well, pleading the fifth in this case is an answer within itself.” She pauses, stepping closer to the island, resting the weight of her head in her hands, with her elbows on the counter in front of me. “So, back to my question. Have you had an STD?"
“Isn’t the technical term STI now?” Meredith asks before I get the chance to answer.
“Hell if I know,” Lina says sharply. “I’ve never had one.”
“Those are simple semantics,” Braxton interjects. “That answer better benoregardless.”
Lina’s brows raise in question. “Uh oh. Would you be in trouble depending on his answer?”
We both grimace at the suggestion ofushaving sex with each other.
“No.” Braxton shakes his head. “But my sister would.”
His piercing glare makes me straighten up. “No, I have not had an STD.”
“What about STIs?” Eden asks, jokingly.
“Haven’t had one of those either.”
Quiet chatter continues between Eden and Meredith about what the difference between the two could be, but Lina’s eyes are still stuck on me.
“Is your definition of a playboy just a guy who likes to have sex?”
“Jesus,” I sigh, looking toward the ceiling, then back at her. “Is there a reason you’re asking?”
“No. Just curious what makes a playboy eligible for the title.”
I can already tell she’s not going to let up, which is why I relent on giving her an answer. “Well, there are two main kinds of them. The more common one doesn’t know how to get a girl off but somehow drags a fleet of them into bed anyway. And then there are the ones who strive to make it more enjoyable for those involved and don’t strictly like sex for selfish reasons.”
She studies me, lips pursed in amusement. “Hmm. That sounds rehearsed.”
“Maybe because I’ve had to say it before,” I shoot back, letting the corner of my mouth twitch up. “It comes with the reputation.”
“That you earned,” she counters, still watching me like she’s trying to decide if I’m full of shit. “But noted.”
It’s clear she’s not impressed—or at least, she’s notactingimpressed. That alone makes her dangerous in a way no other girl has been to me lately. She’s not playing the game, not asking follow-up questions like she’s fishing for attention. She just… looks away, as if I’m no more important than a spoon she would use to stir her drink.
And I feel like I’ve been punched.
She then follows with, “Which would you consider yourself to be?”
Braxton laughs under his breath. “Ask any girl on campus, and they’ll tell you.”
Eden chimes in as well. “There are literal Reddit forums about how good in bed he is.”
I’m not surprised. Savannah has read them to me before. Rather than being jealous, she finds them entertaining. Sometimes I do too.
“I aim to please,” is all I decide to add, an amused smirk never leaving my face.
Lina doesn’t seem fazed by the fact, but I watch her think about it before asking, “So you think there are both playboys who are and aren’t good in bed?”
“Totally.”
“Gage wouldnotbe considered aplayboy, if that’s what you’re asking,” Eden says.
Then Meredith adds, “No. He’s just a douchebag.”
“Gage?” Now I’m curious.
