“She’s a virgin.” I hiss.
“Oh.” Mac shrinks in his seat. “So, what?”
“So, that changes things.”
“For who?” He grabs the beer out of my hand and takes a long pull.
I roll my eyes. “Me, I guess.”
“Why?”
I drop my head back against the wall. “I don’t know.”
“You’re full of crap, you know. You’re being a pussy. If she wants it, give it to her. She’s a big girl. She can handle it.”
Pussy?I scowl at Mac.Who asked his opinion anyway?
“It’s her first time. It should be special and memorable and all that crap that goes along with your first time. She deserves the best.”
“And that’s not you?”
I shrug, snatching my beer back. I have no idea if that’s me. If I look at my life, where I come from and what I have, the answer is definitely no.
“You’re right. That spoiled rich bitch does deserve better.”
“Hey!” I snap. “She isn’t spoiled and she’s not a bitch. Say that again, and I’ll wipe that dopey, drunk expression right off your fuckin’ face.”
Mac smiles obnoxiously. It’s loopy and lopsided, but it’s still a smile. “You’re right, she does deserve better. I just have no idea where she’s going to find it.”
I look over at Mac. Stupid ass. Drunk as a skunk, and still talking his way out of a paper bag.
I exhale, resigned. “I hear ya, bro. Loud and clear.”
“You’re such a poor, unfortunate soul.” He leans back lazily in his chair.
“Why is that?”
“Because you’ve been cursed with a bleeding heart.”
“That’s a curse?”
“For your dick it is.” He grunts.
I laugh forlornly. He might be onto something there.
“Shouldn’t you be getting back toCandy?”I drawl. I think I’m done with our little heart to heart. He’s made his point.
“Probably,” he mumbles without moving.
“Where the hell did you meet her anyway?”
“At the club the other night.” He wiggles his eyebrows. He then leans over, the stench of alcohol emanating from his pores. “She gave me head on the ride down here.”
“What?” I pause just before I bring the beer bottle to my lips. “Where, like at a rest stop?”
“Nope, like while I was driving.” He is seriously wasted. His face is flushed, his body is loose, and he can’t stop snickering.
“Well, good for you,” I retort. Because really, how else do you respond to that?