Page 107 of Revenge Puck

I hit decline.

The phone buzzes again, instantly.

“She is not giving up,” Juliette whispers, mortified—as if I’m dumb enough to actually take the call.

“I noticed.”

I decline itagain.

“You are hiding something,” my sister screeches through the phone, still on the other line. “You never decline my FaceTimes unless you’re naked or in the shower or sleeping.”

“One of those is correct.”

“Oh my god, Aaron—do not tell me you are naked. You’ve been on your date for what, an hour?” My sister screams for all the world to hear. “It’s barely seven, how are you screwing around?”

“Since when is that any of your business?”

“I can’t believe you,” Sutton continues. “This is so embarrassing for me. Put on pants.”

“I’m wearing pants.”But it just so happens that they’ll be coming off very shortly…

“Are they at least buttoned?”

“Nope.”

Juliette waves her hand to get my attention. “Can you please tell her I’m fully dressed? Please?” Juliette begs in a whisper hiss.

“Juliette wants me to tell you she’s dressed,” I say flatly, lying on Juliette’s behalf. Her skin is still bright red, the shirt in her hands still clutched to her bosom.

Poor thing.

This must be traumatic for her…

It takes me a full two seconds to realize I’ve said her name out loud to my sister and Sutton does not miss the detail.

“Ohhh, her name is Juliette. So romantic—like Romeo and Juliet,” my sister chirps brightly. “So, you’re half-naked and she’s fully clothed? How predictable of you.”

“You are not mature enough for this,” I tell my sister with authority. “People get naked. People have sex—how do you think you ended up with Molly and Nicolas?”

Juliette swats at me. “Don’t tell her we were about to have sex!”

“Trust me,” I tell her. “This is the most excitement my sister has had in weeks, her husband travels a lot for work.”

Sutton gasps. “How dare you imply that we rarely bang. We bang plenty!”

“I regret answering this call,” I mutter.

“You should—and I’m never eating in your kitchen again.”

“Good. More for me!” I tell her, ending the call on an innuendo.

“There,” I mutter, tossing my phone back onto the counter. Let her wonder if I meant food or pussy.

It would serve her right.

“You are feral,” Juliette says, staring at me wide-eyed.

I shrug. “She started it.”