Page 75 of Dirty Like Dylan
It never happened. Not once in nine years.
So as it turned out, I was wrong about Laura. Liv wasn’t some sexual experiment to her. She really did love my sister. Which meant I’d eventually come to love her—and find her about as annoying as my sister, though in different ways.
She dropped into the booth across from me and leaned toward me over the table, blue eyes sparkling; the look on her face said deliciously intrigued. “Do tell.”
“There is absolutely not one thing to tell. Dylan is just, you know…” I caught my right shoulder dropping, and quickly straightened before Liv could open her mouth. “He’s too… perfect,” I finished, like that was the worst thing in the world for someone to be. “And Ashley is just… pfft.”
“Right,” my sister said, sliding into the booth next to Laura. “And when you talk about Ash, you chew on your hair.”
“You do,” Laura agreed.
I spit the lock of hair out of my mouth. “Gross.” It felt kind of satisfying, crunching the ends lightly between my teeth, but I’d barely noticed I was doing it.
“Super fucking gross,” Liv corrected me. “I haven’t seen you chew on your hair since Robbie Masterson, by the way.”
“You’re an asshole,” I informed her and drank my beer.
“Who’s Robbie Masterson?” Laura inquired.
“Eighth grade,” Liv said.
“He knocked my books out of my hands in the hallway when we changed classes. Every fucking day. I hated that guy.”
“And you’re full of shit,” my sister said. “You’re totally crushing on Dylan, just like you crushed on Robbie.” To Laura, she said, “I can always tell when she’s hot for a guy.”
“You know nothing about being hot for a guy,” I pointed out.
“I’d accuse you of crushing on Ash, too,” Liv informed me, “but if that were true, you probably wouldn’t have had sex with him already.”
“Hmm. Suck it.” I took another swig of my beer and looked to Laura for help.
“I know,” Laura said. “Where does she get off knowing you so damn well, right?”
“Am I really that fucked up?”
“When it comes to men,” Laura said, “yes.”
I threw up my hands. “Who the fuck cares if I have a crush on Dylan Cope? I’m three-quarters sure he’s into dick, ladies.”
My sister frowned at me. “Since when?”
“How should I know? Since around the time he decided he wasn’t into pussy?”
My sister glanced at her girlfriend, then threw me a look like I was the world’s worst idiot. “Dylan Cope isn’t gay.”
“So everyone says,” I said, unconvinced.
“He’s not gay, Amber,” Laura put in, glancing at Liv for backup. “He’s just, you know…” She shrugged. “Laid-back.”
I scoffed. “Gay men can’t be laid-back?”
“What I mean is, he’s used to women pursuing him.”
“Yup,” my sister said. “I’ve actually seen the man shrug when a woman approached him at a party, like five seconds before he started making out with her. He doesn’t even have to lift a finger. The pussy just magically materializes in his presence.”
Now there was a visual I didn’t need.
“Don’t be jealous,” Laura teased my sister.