Daydream (Maple Hills, #3)(41)

Henry says nothing as I look up from my phone. “Wrong app,” I say breathlessly.

My entire body feels hot. Not in a sexy way, in a “I might pass away from embarrassment” way. He’s wearing the biggest smile. “So that isn’t your book?”

“That isn’t my book,” I say, sitting down properly. Not even the dark could hide how flushed I am right now.

“What is it?” he says, a hint of curiosity in his voice. The look on his face tells me that he knows what it is. In his defense, I’m, like, 99 percent sure I left the app running in the background by accident after I used it this morning. That damn dream is the problem that keeps on probleming.

“It’s an, um. Oh God. It’s an audio erotica app called Whimper.”

“Why are you so red?”

That’s an excellent question. Why am I so red? I lie down flat on the bed and stare at the sky so I don’t have to look at him. “Just a little embarrassed.”

“Why? Because now I know you like to listen to people having sex to get off?” he says calmly.

“I’d rather you kill me than try to have this conversation with me.”

Henry laughs, and even the sound doesn’t soothe me. He lies on the spot next to me on his side, propped up by his hand. “I’ve seen you naked and now I know your sexual preferences. We’re getting super close.”

My jaw drops as I turn to look at him. “You broke a rule!”

“So did you by being embarrassed.”

“And it isn’t a sexual preference as such. I just like audios—of lots of things, not just people having sex. Jesus Christ, can we revisit the killing me idea?”

“I lived between Nate’s and JJ’s rooms for a year. I’m accustomed to knowing the intimate details of my friends’ sex lives. JJ wasn’t too bad because I never saw anyone again, but I have to look at Anastasia regularly. You like audio. I bet I’d like audio, too. There’s nothing you can tell me you’ve done that I haven’t heard them do. But we don’t have to talk about anything if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” I admit sheepishly. “I’m a virgin.”

Henry doesn’t say anything straight away, giving me the perfect amount of time to consider my escape route. People care about my lack of sex life more than I do, so I don’t dread their reactions because I think there’s something wrong. I dread their reactions because I end up having to convince them nothing’s wrong.

“Virginity is a social construct,” he says. “It’s good I didn’t let you leave with Mason. Would have been the worst forty-five seconds of your life. I’m a good friend.”

I can always rely on Henry to surprise me. “How did you manage to make my sexual inexperience about you?”

Henry’s mouth tugs up at the corners in that way that makes my insides go weird. “I can make everything about me if you give me enough time. Including your sex life.”

“I…” have no response. “Our pizza is probably cold, and I think we should put the book on now. Maybe let me do it, y’know, to prevent any other audio mistakes.”

“That’s a shame. I was looking forward to seeing if he finally put it back i—”

Rolling onto my side at a speed I didn’t know I was capable of, I press my palm to Henry’s mouth. “Stop talking. I’m adding this to our rule book under things we’re not allowed to talk about.”

His hand closes around my wrist, lifting my hand from his mouth. He kisses my palm gently and puts it on the air mattress between our chests. “Good luck getting it signed off by the board.”

“The board for our rule book?” He nods. “And who’s on the board?”

“Me and you. And I’m not putting it on the list.”

“You’re unbelievable, do you know that?”

“So I’ve heard.”





Chapter Thirteen HENRY




NATE HAWKINS IS SITTING ON the living room couch. I blink once, twice. Desperately try to remember if I’ve hit my head today.

“At least pretend to be happy to see me, bud,” he says when the surprise of him being there stops me in my tracks in the doorway.

“Do you say bud now because you’re a fake Canadian?” Robbie asks him. They’re both sipping from their favorite mugs, and a nostalgic wave drags me under when I realize how familiar the sight of Robbie and Nate gossiping in the living room drinking coffee feels.

“How about I stick my foot up your ass and you can tell me how fake that feels,” he snaps back. “Hen asked me the same thing a few weeks ago.”

“Are you going into the house?” Russ asks from behind me. I drop my bag at the end of the couch and sit beside Nate, resisting the urge to poke him to check that he’s real.

“So,” he says, turning in his seat to face me. “How’s it going, Captain? How’s Faulkner?”

Robbie and Russ both loudly groan, but before I can respond Russ holds up his cell phone. “JJ is video calling me. Did you tell him you were coming?”

Nate shakes his head as Russ accepts the call. “I sensed something was happening,” JJ says immediately. “Having a reunion without me, are you? Selfish bastards.”