CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Jennings
“So what about you?” Daisy asks. “I showed you mine, now you show me yours. Tell me something embarrassing.”
“I don’t think that’s quite how that game is played, love, but if you want to play kinky show and tell later I’m up for it.” Literally. “You didn’t tell me anything embarrassing. You told me about a wanker you used to date. An embarrassing story would be something like getting caught skinny-dipping as a teenager or walking into the wrong bathroom in primary school.”
“Did you do those things?” Her eyes are wide and she’s leaned forward a bit, eager to hear my stories of youthful mortification.
“Possibly.”
“Tell me,” she says, leaning back in her chair again. She’s ordered the risotto and as she places a forkful in her mouth her shoulders drop and she closes her eyes in apparent happiness. When she opens them she raises her brow to prompt me to get on with my confessions.
“I’ll go first. Given you’ve not had a turn.” I level her a look of mock seriousness. “And because I’m a gentleman.” I stab my fork into a vegetable on my plate as I think up something suitably embarrassing to share. “Once in primary school I accidentally called a teacher Mum. I was teased mercilessly for the rest of the school term.”
“In third grade I threw up on the bus. Directly onto the boy I had my first crush on. He never spoke to me again.”
“In secondary school I said the word ‘orgasm’ instead of ‘organism’ whilst giving a presentation in class.”
“I accidentally texted ‘I love you’ to my camp counselor instead of my mom.”
“I got caught skinny-dipping with Melissa Peterson. In the school pool. By her father, the headmaster.”
She stares at me, her lips pursed to the side and her fingers tapping the tablecloth. I think she’s trying to come up with something more embarrassing, so I wait patiently.
“When I was a kid, I’d get out of the bathtub and streak through the house yelling ‘cold naked kid’ while my mom attempted to catch me with a towel.”
“You did not.”
“I did. I promise you I did.”
“It hardly counts, you were a toddler.”
“I didn’t stop until the second grade.”
We stare at each other in silence before we both burst into laughter.
“I have no idea what I was thinking,” she says, still giggling. “But it seemed a really necessary part of bathing at the time.”
“I’ll take you to a topless beach if you’re so eager.”
“No! No way! Never.”
“You’ve grown out of your exhibitionist stage, then?”
“Yes. Most definitely.”
“Tell me something more recent. Perhaps an embarrassing university story.”
“Freshman year,” she says without missing a beat. She grabs her wine glass and takes a swig as if she needs the fortification for this story, and I’m already trying not to smile. “I almost dropped out of college over this, I was so mortified.”
“Do tell.” The most delightful blush has begun to warm her cheeks and I’m captivated with her.
“I’ve got an afternoon class across campus. I’m not in a rush because I was that nerd who arrived ten minutes early for everything and sat in the front row.” She shakes her head and rolls her eyes at herself and I immediately imagine a prim and proper college-aged Daisy wearing glasses and saucy pony tail. I like this image very much. “And we’ve gotten a frost so I’ve allotted extra time on top of my extra time.”
“You took nerding seriously.”
“Very.” She nods in agreement. “So I exit my dorm, middle of the day. Kids are everywhere.” She waves a hand in front of her in an arc to indicate the totality of everywhere. “I get ten feet outside my dorm and decide to cut across the grass because I love that crunching sound that frozen grass makes when you walk on it.” She closes her eyes and sighs, then shakes her head slightly to fortify herself before opening her eyes to continue. “Then I wiped out. Bam. On my ass. In front of a billion kids.” She shakes her head again. “I know, I know. Before you say anything, I know people fall all the time, blah blah.” She exhales and takes another sip of her wine. “But there’s more.”
“Okay.” I grin, loving the way she can’t even look at me right now.
“When I go down, I hear a rip.”
I laugh and then she does look at me.
“It gets worse. This super-cute guy from my dorm stops to help me up, but I don’t want his help because I suspect my ass is hanging out of my pants, you know? So I try to wave him off but he thinks I’m offering him a hand to give me a boost to my feet. Once I’m up I grab my butt to determine how bad the damage is and I think I’m playing it off as if I’m just wiping the seat of my pants off, but he thinks I’m hurt so he asks if I’m okay and somehow this ends with him looking at my ass. Literally, because this was freshman year, when I decided to assert my newfound independence by wearing thong panties.”
“That’s pretty bad,” I agree with a sympathetic nod.
“I couldn’t make eye contact with that guy for the rest of the semester.”
“But did you make it to class on time?” I attempt to ask this with a straight face but fail.
“Ha ha,” she snaps and glances quickly away, but a moment later she mumbles, “Yes.”
“You went to class after that? You really were a nerd.”
“Yeah. The very worst part is that I was wearing sensible boots. My sensible boots did not save me from falling on my ass.”
“Bit of a disaster, weren’t you?”
“Yup.”
“Did you get laid at all in university?”
“Not till junior year.”
I laugh out loud then. This girl.
“I’m still traumatized by the sound of ripping denim.”
“I’d imagine so, love. I’d imagine so.”