He nods.

“Please tell me you didn’t fuck her,” I say, tossing my head back in frustration.

“No,” he says. “I think that’s the problem.”

“That you didn’t fuck her?”

“Yeah. Now she won’t talk to me.”

“Because…” I prompt him by rolling my finger.

“We went out a couple of times.”

“And…”

He shrugs. “And she invited me back to her place.”

“Did you go?”

He nods. And his face flushes.

“And?” God, getting information out of him is like pulling teeth.

“And we were kind of making out.”

I don’t prompt him this time.

“And she turned out the lights.” He says it in a big rush, really quickly. Then he shuts his mouth.

“You really like her, don’t you?”

He nods.

“You like her so much you don’t want to talk about intimate stuff.”

He nods again.

“Well, it’s about fucking time!” I shout. He finally found someone he won’t talk about, which means he has real feelings for her. Because when you meet the one, you don’t want to talk about intimate details with anybody but her. I learned that from Reagan, because when I’m with her, it’s different. Like she’s a piece of my soul, and I’ll get it dirty by talking about it with anybody but her.

He bites his lips together. “So, she wanted the lights out.”

I motion for him to continue. I know he won’t give me details. But still. “So you do it in the dark. No big deal.”

“It is a big deal.” He heaves a sigh. “I got the feeling she wanted the lights out to keep me from seeing her. But I kind of want to see everything. All of her.” He shakes his head and mutters, “It’s stupid.”

“Was she just feeling self-conscious?”

He nods. “I think so.”

“So she wanted to keep fooling around, but would only do it in the dark.”

He nods again. “That’s all I’m telling you.”

I hold up my hands like I’m surrendering to the cops. “I get it. Did you ask one of the girls what it means?”

He shakes his head.

“That’s where I’d start.”

He shakes his head again. “I only told you because you asked. Twin thing.”

“It’s not like you haven’t done it in the dark before.” Shit, we used to share a bedroom.

“It was like she was hiding herself from me.”

“Oh.” I breathe out slowly. Now I get it.

He nods and starts throwing the damn ball again.

“So maybe you need to dial it back a little. Get her to where she feels comfortable with you.”

He shakes his head. “She won’t take my calls.”

“So go to her house.”

“She won’t answer the door.” He’s quiet for a moment and then he blurts out, “I fucking love her body. Every square inch of it.” He makes grabby motions with his hands. “Her ass, oh my god, it’s perfect. Enough to grab and hold on to. And her thighs. I want to nibble her all over.”

I bite back my grin. “Well, that was awkward.”

“She’s perfect.”

“But she doesn’t feel perfect.”

“Apparently not.”

“You have some work to do.”

He sighs. “Where do I start?”

“I was afraid to touch Reagan when we got together.”

He nods. “I remember.”

“We had to work on it. Together. Slowly.”

He blows out a breath in frustration. “You’re no help.”

At least the hairs on my arms aren’t standing up now. I run down the beach and motion for him to throw the ball. He sends it in a long arc, straight into my arms.

“So why didn’t you just do it with the lights out?” I yell from down the beach.

“Because I like her,” he yells back. “I really, really like her.”

Good, I can’t help but think. And I throw the ball back to him.

Sam

I knock softly on Paul and Friday’s door, and press my ear against it. When I hear a grunt, I doubt the sanity of this particular mission. Oh, shit. I came at the wrong time. I back up, ready to turn and run down the hall in the other direction, but suddenly Paul’s door opens and he sticks his head out.

He rubs the sleep from his eyes. “What do you want?”

“Are you busy?” I fidget nervously. His eyes narrow at me when he catches me, and I force myself to stop.

He opens the door all the way and lifts a finger to his mouth. Hayley is sprawled across their bed, and Friday is sitting in a cushy chair with PJ attached to her boob, nursing. I look everywhere but at her, and she laughs and adjusts her clothes so that she’s totally covered.

“Happy now?” she asks. She shakes her head.

I walk over and press a kiss to her forehead. I look down at PJ, and see how happy she is. How happy they are. Friday moves her feet and kicks the footrest out a few inches. I sit down on it and heave a sigh.

“What’s up?” Paul asks, his brow furrowing.

“I kind of need some advice,” I say.

Paul chuckles. “Let me guess. This is about a girl.”

“The girl,” I say.

“The cheerleader?”