“It’s not like that. I really like Sunny.”
“Then I suggest you step up your game.” He taps the hood of the car as he strolls up the driveway, Andy following.
His parting words don’t make me feel better at all.CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE KICKER OF PANTSI drive around the corner and park the car. I don’t have to be at the airport for another seven hours. I have an entire day to kill, and all I can think about is how this weekend went from awesome to total shit. All because of Kale. Well, all because of me and the bunnies and the stupid pictures I can’t control posted all over Instagram and Tumblr and wherever the fuck else. And Kale.
I pull my phone out of my back pocket. I have messages from Sunny:I wish weed had alone time b4 I left.Thx 4 cuming 2 visit me.I had fun. I send her one back, along with the selfie, using voice-to-text so I don’t mess it up:Me too. I can't wait to see you again. Message me when you get to camp if you have reception.When I’m done I set the picture as my wallpaper, and then I post it to every social media platform I have access to, and tag her. I add the caption “Spending time with my favorite Canadian girl.” It’s not as in-your-face as I’d like to be, but I think it gets the point across. If any pictures are going up of me with bunnies, I’ll combat them with nice ones of me and Sunny.
I check my emails while I wait for a reply. Randy’s sent two. I use text-to-speech to listen to those. Apparently his flight times have changed, and he’ll be in a few hours earlier. He says he’s cool to wait at the airport in the bar however long he has to. Since Sunny’s already gone, he won’t have to. I shoot him a quick message instead of an email so he gets it right away. Sunny still hasn’t responded, so I call Vi. She picks up on the third ring.
“Buck.” She says my name like a swear word. I don’t even get a chance to say hi before she fires off threats. “Care to explain the hat trick message you left for me yesterday before I beam myself to Canada and beat your ass with a nine iron?”
I forgot about that message. Since I know I’m not in real trouble, I decide to be a jerk, hoping it’ll make me feel better post Kale-introduction. “You don’t golf.”
“I might start. It seems like it might be fun if I’m aiming for your balls. It’d be challenging though, since they’re the size of peas.”
“My balls are the size of Canada, and everyone knows the world maps are wrong, and Canada’s the biggest country out there.”
“Actually, I’m pretty sure that’s Australia, or maybe it’s China or Russia. Geography was never my thing. Seriously, Buck, I’d like to believe you’re smart enough not to brag to me about bagging three bunnies when you’re supposed to be with Sunny.”
“I hat tricked with Sunny.”
“You did what?” She screams so loud, my ear starts to ring. Her voice is muffled when she says, “Everything’s fine. I’m talking to Charlene. She bought another purse off the shopping channel.” There’s a few seconds of fumbling around and then, “You better explain yourself. Quickly.”
“So, like, Sunny had a boyfriend in high school, right?”
“What the hell does this have to do with a hat trick?”
“I’m getting to that. So get this, he was terrible at sexing.”
“Everyone’s terrible at sexing in high school.”
“That’s not true. I was awesome.” At least that’s what the girls said.
“Says you. I’m still not understanding what this has to do with hat tricks.”
“Apparently the guy never gave Sunny an orgasm. Not once.”
Violet gasps. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope.” Clearly I’m not alone in thinking that’s poor boyfriend form. The first thing a guy should do is figure out what gets the girl off, especially if he wants a repeat.
“If that’s true, it really is terrible.”
“What do you mean, ‘if it’s true’?”
“You’re sure Sunny didn’t tell you that to boost your ego?”
“Why would she do that?”
“To make you feel good about yourself?”
“Do girls really do that?” I can’t imagine lying about not having orgasms, and Sunny isn’t much for dishonesty. That’s more my area. And I usually just leave out details so they can draw their own conclusions.
“I don’t know. Sometimes? Maybe. I’ve lied to Alex about . . . never mind.”
“You can’t not tell me.”
“You don’t want me to finish that sentence, Buck. I promise it won’t make a difference to this conversation, other than causing irreparable emotional damage.”
“I highly doubt that. What have you lied to him about? Sex stuff? Orgasms? About never having one before?” I try not to think about the two of them together in the locker room last spring.