Page 26 of Death is My BFF

“What?”

“A boyfriend,” David repeated. “A boy, who’s a friend. Except the two of you—” He started to make lewd hand gestures, at which point I cut him off.

“I know what a boyfriend is, bozo.”

“So the answer is no, you haven’t,” David said, his grin wolfish.

“You’re a virgin too. Saving yourself for a special guy?”

Geez, is it that obvious I’m a virgin?“That is none of your damn business.”

“Touchy.” His expression was a hybrid of wicked and amused.

Like he’d found a new way to tamper with his favorite toy. “I bet . . . you’ve never seen a guy naked.”

“I have,” I lied, semi-choking it out.How the hell could he possiblyknow that?Had the room raised a few degrees or had I imagined it? I was hyperaware of every pore in my body sweating too. Recently, on the front cover ofRolling Stonemagazine, David had appeared naked with both hands in front of his privates. It was all over the news.

Now it was all I could see. Once more, David was purposely trying to rouse a reaction out of me, and it was working. “I have seen a guy naked, but once again, that’s none of your business.”

“It was health class, wasn’t it? You saw your first and only in health class?”

There was no possible way he was asking if I’d ever seen a . . .

“You know, the Love Muscle? Mr. Happy? I personally like to call mine: ‘The Anaconda.’” Then he moved his hand around like a snake. “Sssssss.”

“I’m four hundred percent done with this interview.”

“Sssss.”

I launched from my seat to stand. “You’resick!”

“You have no idea.” He propped his feet up onto his desk. “Out of the goodness of my heart, I must inform you that the top button of your blouse popped off about ten minutes ago. Must have been those D cups breaking free.”

I snatched my purse and bolted. “Good-bye, David.”

“I always win.” He’d only muttered it under his breath, but I’d heard him clear as day.

I stopped dead in my tracks and pivoted at the door.

“You’re a sad excuse for a man,” I said, and his cocky grin faltered.

“You’re wrong too. You lost by losing me, and I won by losing you.”

I yanked open the office door and tossed him my complimentary D&S Tower tissues, which he caught smoothly with one hand. His features had molded into granite, his mouth a tight, thin line.

For once, David Star had nothing to say.

When I got home, I sulked around the rest of the afternoon and cured my tribulations with cheddar popcorn and reruns ofBuffy theVampire Slayer.

I tossed a kernel of popcorn at the TV. “Come on, Buff! Make out with Spike already!”

The lock to the front door jangled, before a frazzled version of Aunt Sarah entered my home with an eccentric neon-purple tote bag. Sarah was my mom’s little sister by twelve years. She lived close by, and with my parents gone, she’d been charged with checking in on me. Inside the doorway, she wrestled her umbrella closed with hilarious aggravated noises.

“Sup,” I managed around a mouthful of food.

She whirled around with her hand to her chest. “Jesus! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

“You’re the one breaking into my house unannounced,” I pointed out.