Page 22 of Room Serviced
“Your mom says that?” he asked when his eyes made it back to her face. Then he finished his own drink.
“Yes, about my personality,” Sloane said, and looked at him again, unwavering. “She doesn’t know about my slutty phase.”
She said slutty phase the same way she’d have said master’s program, probably. Like it pleased her. Max swallowed and wondered if they could hear his heartbeat all the way out in the lobby.
“Well, I’m all ears,” he said, nonchalant as possible.
“I thought we weren’t kissing and telling.”
“I’m not, because I’m a gentleman. You can, though.”
“Wow, thanks.” She rolled her eyes, but she looked like she was trying not to laugh. “Sure, it’s fair for you to hear about the time I had to walk home with in nothing but a shirt and underwear with my jacket around my waist, but I don’t get your shenanigans.”
“Fuck fair, just tell me about your frat-party escapades, Sloane,” he said, leaning in. His drink was gone, and he wanted another one—wanted that, wanted to hear Sloane tell raunchy stories, wanted to race her upstairs and see if he couldn’t top them—but he also had a carefully planned list of filming locations and shots and ghost experiments to do, so upstairs was going to have to wait.
“Oh, I can tell you that, no problem,” Sloane said. “I went to two frat parties, both as a freshman. At the first one, I drank Jack and ginger ale for the first time and threw up in the bushes outside. At the second one, I was there just long enough to walk in on someone doing coke in the bathroom, and I panicked about drugs and left.”
“I was hoping for better escapades,” Max admitted.
“You could always tell me about yours.”
“What makes you think I had escapades?”
“Oh, did you not? Sorry—I didn’t realize I was talking to someone pure as the driven snow,” Sloane said. “Forgive me.”
Max grinned and flipped her off. “Fine. I once tried to have a threesome, only to realize I was just the third wheel, and I walked home barefoot because my shoes were on the other side of the bed where they were hooking up and I didn’t want to make things awkward.”
Sloane laughed. “They didn’t notice you were leaving?”
“They weren’t noticing a lot at the time.”
“I guess that makes you…a gentleman?”
“Sure. I think they teach How to gracefully exit a threesome where you’re not really wanted in etiquette classes,” Max said. “If I’d taken it, I’d probably have left my shoes by the door.”
“Live and learn,” Sloane said. “Did you?—”
“Yes.”
“What do you mean, yes? You have no idea what I was going to ask!”
“You were going to ask if I got my shoes back,” Max said, and couldn’t help grinning at her. “And yeah, I went over the next day. It wasn’t even that awkward.”
Sloane huffed, still leaning back in her chair, twisting her empty cocktail glass by the stem. She looked like she was trying not to smile. “Is that what everyone asks when you tell that story?”
“Everyone?” Max echoed. “How many people do you think I tell about the time I didn’t have a threesome or my shoes? It’s not exactly good small talk at a party.”
“So,” she said, and leaned forward, her chin in one hand. A shiver went up his spine at the look on her face, pleased and teasing and maybe a little predatory. “You’re saying I’m one of the privileged few to know this about you.”
“Only if you think it’s a privilege.”
“This isn’t how you always flirt?”
Max’s heart kicked against his rib cage, and he couldn’t help but smile. “Only with the girls who ask me for a bear and blossomed in college.”
“I can’t imagine what you’re like with everyone else.”
“Still charming, but less flirty. I’ve got a thing for bear requests.”
