"I —" Colton starts, but I interrupt.
"There is no 'going out on a date'," I say huffily. "There's a rule against fraternization. Not that it would matter, because I wouldn't be going out on a date with Colton anyway."
"Be persistent," Sable coaches Colton.
"Do not be persistent," I say.
Sable keeps going. "Persistence is always rewarded when it comes to Cass."
"Are you advising my student to keep stalking me?" I ask. "Persistence is not ever going to be rewarded in this case."
"I'll wear her down," Colton promises. He grabs another slice of pizza. "This is a pretty nice place. It's a lot less messy than my house."
"That's because your place is filled with naked girls and spilled beer," I remind him. As much as Colton seems hell-bent on getting a rise out of me with his innuendos and inappropriate behavior, I haven't forgotten that first day I met him.
The day I saw his cock.
He's not lying about how big it is, that's for sure.
He might not be lying about how well he works it, either.
I put the thought out of my head and grab a slice of pizza from the coffee table. Just because Colton and Sable seem to think that a discussion of my potential deflowering is totally appropriate casual conversation is no reason to starve.
12
Cassie
I click through the millionth page of results for adult toy products online. I'm searching for inappropriate gifts. This should be a lot more fun than it is, but after ten pages of bachelorette party items, it got super boring.
Colton sent me a bouquet of penis lollipops, so obviously I can't let that go with absolutely no response.
"Are you searching for sex toys?" Sable asks. She walks in from the kitchen carrying a bag of chips and a bowl of homemade salsa. She peers at my laptop screen, her face over my shoulder. "Because there's this brand of vibrator that's amazing. It's kind of pricey, but –"
"I'm not searching for sex toys for me," I interrupt.
"Ohhh," she says. "So you're going to take my advice and get laid by the football player? I'm so proud of you. Jumping into sex toys right away, though? Maybe you want to take it a little slower. You know, because of the whole virgin thing."
She stage-whispers virgin like it’s a secret.
"I'm not screwing Colton," I say. "I told you that."
"Who are you screwing, then?" Sable asks. She sets the bowl of salsa between us and throws herself back heavily on the couch, tearing into the bag of chips. This girl never stops eating, but you'd never know it. She never gains an ounce. There's just no justice in this world.
"I'm not screwing anyone," I say. "Colton brought those stupid penis lollipops over here because he thinks I'm going to be shocked by his juvenile humor. So I'm looking for an appropriate counter-gift."
"Ooh, I like this! A game of one-ups-manship between two people who clearly just want to bone each other but can’t say it in a mature, adult way so they say it through gag gifts."
"It's absolutely nothing like that," I say. "It stops here. I just need to find something to get him back."
"You should get him a blow-up doll," Sable suggests.
"I'm not bringing a blow up doll to his house."
"Send it to him," Sable says.
"No blow-up doll. Too pricey."
"A pocket pussy," Sable says. She flips the channel on the TV and casually pops a tortilla chip into her mouth like she just said something about the weather and not pussy.
"Should I even ask what that is?"
"Search it online," Sable says. "It's perfect. He got you dicks, you get him a pussy. I mean, it's obvious both of you really want to give each other the real thing, but if you insist on this back-and-forth instead of verbalizing your wants, then by all means continue."
"I do not want to give him the real thing," I protest. I'm not sure if I'm lying more for her benefit or for my own. I look at the search results. "Oh my God."
"You found them," Sable notes, distracted by reality TV. "Did we miss an episode of this or something? Did this bitch get brought back on the show?"
"I don't know," I say absently, far more fixated on the listing of rubber pussies on my laptop. They're horrifying, but cheaper than a blow-up doll, which makes them perfect. "They're… kind of gross."
"Why?" Sable asks. "They're just a jerk-off thing. Like a vibrator. Funny and more useful than your dick bouquet. If I were Colton, I'd have gotten you a bouquet of vibrators so you could chill the fuck out. Oh my God. This girl is crying on a date. That's just embarrassing."