Page 90 of Challenge
“Before?” she screams again.
I shush her. Then I spill every last sordid, awful detail. Even down to the goodbye sex I gave him on the chair in my flat, the crying on the dance floor at the pub, and the conversation I just had with him in his gym.
“Christ, Indie, you skipped to the finish line,” Belle says, shaking her head back and forth in wonder.
“Stop,” I groan. “Help me figure out what to do. I mean, if I did dive into more with him, a relationship or whatever, I don’t know if I could survive losing him. I melted down over the thought of losing you and we’ve never had sex!”
“This is true. We’ll save theVagina Listfor our thirties.” She waggles her brows, and I huff out a pathetic laugh at her joke.
“What if I don’t know what love even feels like? I think I love you, but what the hell do I know? You’re just a girl I make Penis Lists with and tell all my secrets to. Whatever you and I have isn’t normal, is it?”
“What’s normal? Who cares about normal?” she shrugs. “You do what feels right.”
“But how can I date a Penis Number One? He’s a player. Won’t I get my heart broken?”
“Indie,” she says with wide, shocked eyes. “You’re like the dumbest smart person I know.”
“What the hell does that mean?” I baulk.
“Camden isn’t Penis Number One.” She reaches out and grabs my shoulders so I’m facing her more clearly. “He’s Penis Number Three.”
My hands cover my cheeks and they feel as if they might melt off my face. “No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Yes! Indie, he is the perfect mix of One and Two. He said ‘Thou Art Mine’ right after he made love to you. That’s the stuff love stories are made of.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “I don’t know if I’m capable of more yet. I always thought I’d live a little before I found a Penis Number Three.”
“Well, he’s certainly shown himself to you already, darling. You just have to decide if he’s worth it.”
Me: I’m coming for the surgery tomorrow. Don’t make a thing of it. Don’t pull out from doing the procedure. Let’s just pretend we don’t know each other and get through the day.
…
…
…
Indie: I’m glad.
She’s glad, I think to myself as I ride in the car with my brothers to the hospital. It’s six a.m. and the London sunlight hasn’t even touched the surface yet, further darkening my mood. But it’s okay, because Indie Porter is “glad.” I’m glad she’s glad. I’m glad that I tormented myself over the decision for hours and she gets to type back two fucking words in a text.
I’ll be glad when this is over and I can get back to my life, whatever it may be.
“Camden,” Tanner says from the back seat, shaking my shoulder to get my attention. “What do you call cheese that is not yours?”
“I don’t know, what?” I ask, turning my head to look at him.
“Nacho cheese!” His eyes crinkle as he bursts out laughing. I can actually see his mouth smile now that the season is over and he’s trimmed his beard at last. Booker chuckles quietly beside him, and I glance over at Gareth in the driver’s seat whose shoulders shake with silent laughter.
The corner of my mouth tilts up.
“That’s a pun, right? Did you like it?” Tanner asks, his voice bright and innocent.
I shrug. “It’s all right,” I say while trying to stop my smile from growing.“Are we not picking Vi up?” I ask Gareth as he misses the turn for her flat.
