“You look pretty as a girl,” is what Spencer told me. Nice, I suppose, considering he went on and on about how ugly he found me as a guy.
“He's planning something,” I say, putting my spoon back in the bowl and smoothing my hands down my skirt. I'm wearing contacts today, and my hair's styled as best as I can get it. I've never had short hair before, and I'm not sure how I feel about it.
Subconsciously, I find myself raking my fingers through it.
“You look good with short hair,” Ranger tells me, his grumbling voice making me jump a bit. He's staring at me from across the table, and I notice Spencer's gaze drift over to him. He frowns hard, but I can't hold back a smile. Cody and Monica went on and on about how crappy I looked with short hair, and here's my new friend telling me I look good with it. That's pretty damn validating.
“Anyway,” Spencer continues, clearing his throat. The twins are scooping the ice cream up into their mouths like they're going for a world record, finishing up at the same time, and throwing their spoons down so that they clatter. “Do you think—”
“Done,” they announce in unison, and then they're back to glaring at each other over my head. I sit up straight, but that doesn't exactly block their view since they're so much taller than me. “I win.” They both sneer. “No, I win.” Frustrated growling ensues, and I sigh.
“Do you think, what?” I ask, trying not to choke on the big shiny ball of emotions jammed in my throat. I lost my virginity yesterday, and all I wanted to do was call Monica and describe it all in detail. Even if she did sleep with my boyfriend, I miss her. How messed-up is that?
“Do you think we could walk and talk for a bit?” Spencer pauses, and his eyes narrow slightly. “Alone.”
“What the hell do you guys need to talk about alone?” Micah asks, crossing his arms together behind his head. Ranger is pursing his lips because he knows perfectly well what we need to discuss. It seems he's been a gentleman about it though because nobody else has said a thing.
“Just … you know, the girl thing and all that. You did get the memo, right? Chuck and I have a thing, and that thing is all twisted-up and weird now that I know that he's a she. We have stuff to sort out.”
“Don't be mean to Micah. He had a mental break when he thought you were dead.” Church sips his coffee, nice and calm, closing his eyes as he drinks. During his first sip of the day, he gave a huge shudder, like he was having an orgasm or something.
Speaking of orgasms …
“Didn't you get the memo? Tobias confessed his love for Charlotte when we thought you were dead.” Micah smirks, and it doesn't take a genius to figure out that he's deflecting. He doesn't want Spencer to know just how much he loves him. Seriously, men are weird as hell.
“Are you fucking serious? You thought I was dead, and you moved in on my boyfriend?” Spencer pauses. “Girlfriend, whatever.”
“It wasn't like that,” Tobias growls, giving his brother a dark look. “Why are you purposely trying to piss him off? You should just be grateful he isn't lying cold in some morgue somewhere.”
“I am grateful. I just want to know why he needs so much alone time with Chuck.” Micah raises one red brow, and Spencer frowns, giving me a questioning look. Pretty sure he's asking permission to tell the guys what happened between us.
“Can we please just take a walk? We won't be long, just around the block and back.”
Micah gives me a dark look, but scoots out of the booth anyway. Ranger does the same for Spencer, and we end up outside together in a brisk spring sunshine. It's much warmer today than it's been, and I appreciate the rare feeling of sunlight on my skin.
“Thought we'd never get rid of them,” Spencer jokes, but then I bite my lip and glance away, feeling heat rise to my cheeks. This is so awkward, isn't it? Like unbelievably awkward. “Do you want to tell them? Do you want me to tell them?”
“Do we have to tell them at all?” I ask, but then I cringe because I remember Spencer's rant about secrets. These are his best friends, why wouldn't he tell them? The question I should probably be asking myself is why I don't want to tell them. Like, maybe I have a crush on the twins and I don't want them to know?
Ugh.
Life is hard.
“We have to tell them,” Spencer says, and then just keeps walking when I pause at a corner. He most definitely missed that day in preschool when you learn to look both ways before crossing the street. “We're in Nutmeg, Connecticut, Chuck, not wherever-it-is-you're-from, California. Come on.” He turns around and starts walking backward across the street, and I follow. He has a point. “But can I please ask about the Virgin Chuck thing? What's that about?”
