Page 112 of The Pucking Coach's Daughter

I almost go back out into the living room, but I change my shirt at the last moment. There’s writing on my ass cheek, too. But that will have to wait for later.

Maddy eyes me when I return. “You okay?”

“Yeah, sorry, Dad was texting me.”

Her attention flicks back to the movie, which seems to be winding up for some grand finale. “Your relationship with him is doing better, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, actually.” I sit. Almost wince, but manage to hold off.

The movie ends. We watch another one—not Halloweentown, because apparently the scary one has a sequel we need to watch—but halfway through, Maddy yawns. Stretches. Yawns again. I don’t say anything until the credits roll.

“I’m going to head home,” she says. “Thanks for inviting me over. Rain check on Halloweentown?”

“Anytime.” I follow her to the door. “I appreciate you spending it with me instead of…” I motion toward the window.

“Parties stress me out,” she confesses. “This was a godsend. We can repeat it next year, if you want.”

We share a smile, and she promises to text me when she gets back to her dorm room. As a sophomore, she can still live on campus. Next year will be a different story for her, but she mentioned moving in with Dylan. So that will be good, at any rate.

I turn on all the lights in my apartment and go straight for the bathroom. I spin in the mirror and pull down my leggings, trying to decipher the scratchy handwriting. It’s bled and smudged a bit, but I think it says, You may have had her first, but her ass virginity belongs to me.

I groan.

Is it true? Yes.

Did I tell anyone that? No. Why the fuck would I go around advertising it?

Actually… I think back to my quick fling with Carter the previous year at SJU. Did we ever talk about it?

Is he L.? It’s possible, I guess. He had my number, but he could’ve easily lied and said he got it from that post. I have Oliver’s and Penn’s numbers both saved in my phone now, too. L.’s doesn’t match any of them.

There are workarounds to that, of course.

But I should also consider that it’s someone else entirely.

L.

You okay?

Me

That was…

Too much?

No.

Everything.

How’s the plug?

Driving me nuts. I didn’t finish, by the way.

Obviously not. Don’t worry, Sydney, if I want a girl to orgasm, I know how to make it happen.

“a girl”?

You. If I want *you* to orgasm, I know how. Pinky promise.