Fruit Roll-Up.”
“Licked your what?” Cam asked with a startled laugh.
“Need I remind you again about the glitter incident?”
“That was an accident,” I said, looking up at him. Wow, he was hot. I just stared for a few seconds and enjoyed the view.
“Yeah, well I accidentally licked your Fruit Roll-Up too,” he answered, looking back down at me curiously.
“Just because I didn’t throw myself at you like Shari Edelstein.”
“In preschool ?” Cam asked, sounding confused.
“They’ve moved on to Junior High,” Gab explained helpfully.
“Are you jealous ?” Adam teased. “Because I’ll be happy to make it up to you.”
“I’m not jealous of Shari Fucking Edelstein,” I muttered angrily.
“Really? Because you sound jealous,” he said with a smirk.
“Who in the hell is Shari Edelstein?” Mark asked.
“Some chick I made out with at my Bar Mitzvah,” Adam answered, finally looking amused. “She slapped me when Lilith, here, walked in on us and caught me feeling her up.”
“At your Bar Mitzvah?” Braden laughed. “Like when you were thirteen?”
“Lily and I share a long and sordid past, beginning with the glitter incident . Even though she’s not jealous, she’s obviously carrying around a deep, inexplicable hatred for some chick I made out with in a stairwell fourteen years-ago.”
“Inespic explic espic? She was a total fake! You don’t act like you’re all offended just because you get caught with a guy’s hand on your tits.”
I broke away from Adam and leaned forward quickly, making a sweeping gesture for effect, and nearly knocking over the pitcher of beer. Luckily, Mark had very quick reflexes. Then I leaned on the table, knocking over several empty cups, as Cam and Braden swept several full ones out of the way in the nick of time.
“If I had known that you were so open-minded, I would have felt you up in the stairwell instead,” Adam said, grabbing my waist with both hands and hauling me back against him before I fell out of my chair. He wasn’t just holding my waist with one arm anymore. Now I smooshed up against him and he had both arms around me. Hey, this was pretty nice. His muscles were hard and he was as warm as a furnace.
“What was with the showgirls, by the way?” I asked. He was holding me so closely now that I had to twist around in his arms to talk to him. Now my legs were pushed up against his and our faces were only inches apart. His breath didn’t smell like beer, though. It smelled like peppermint. Mine probably smelled like a Tijuana gutter.
“She was a showgirl in Junior High?” Cam asked, still looking confused.
“Not her. She’s talking about the act I put on at my Bar Mitzvah. It was obviously a more significant day for her than it was for me.”
“He sang ‘ I Did It My Way ’.” I rolled my eyes.
“Yeah, well, I seem to recall someone quoting Martin Luther King’s ‘I Have a Dream’ speech at her Bat Mitzvah. No delusions of grandeur there.”
“Nobody appreciates intelligence. They all want the girl with the big rack.”
“For your information, you have a big rack,” he said, eyes dropping to my chest “And if it makes you feel any better, I can tell that yours are real.”
“No way! See, I told you she was a fake!” I poked him in the ribs.
“Hey! I can understand your desire to touch me, but be careful.”
“I have to tell Marcy Kaplan!” I sputtered gleefully, twisting back around. The news that Shari’s famous tits were made of sweat-socks would make every girl in our class who Shari had maliciously filled with adolescent angst feel vindicated.
“Isn’t Marcy Kaplan in the Peace Corps now?”
“How do you call Africa?” I asked, picking up someone’s cell phone from the table.
“Why don’t you email her later?” Adam asked, removing the phone from my hand and handing it to Mark, who pocketed it tactfully.
“I feel like we should email Shari and tell her we’re on to her,” Jess said
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