Three Little Words

“Gosh.” She blinked. “I didn’t even realize.”

“Mmm hmm. It’s pervasive, even when you know better. Now… tell me about the guys in your sketchbook.”

“How about two of them? I… don’t know if I’m ready to tell you more.

And I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready to tell you about all of them.”

I arched an eyebrow.

“I haven’t asked about all the women in your past, have I?”

“Fair enough. So… tell me about these guys.”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I can do this,” she said to herself. Then she felt along the edge of the book until she found the page she was looking for. She’d dog-eared it so she wouldn’t have to flip past pages she wasn’t ready to explain yet. She took another breath to settle her nerves.

“Okay, here goes…” She opened the book, and I took a good look for the first time. She pretended to look as well, but she was really studying me out of the corner of her eye. We went through several pages like that.

The sketches were basically anatomical studies of penises, mostly to improve and refine her technique. Some were simple line drawings, while others were fully shaded. And she’d used colored pencils for one, so it looked real enough to touch.

Part of me thought it was weird that she’d drawn them without the rest of the guy, but the rest of me understood. Most artists did studies like that all the time, of hands or eyes or other body parts. Wren had thought they were sexual because of what they were, but I did the same thing with buildings. I’d have whole pages of corbels, balusters, or even lintel decorations. They weren’t the least bit sexy. So why were penises different, especially for an

artist like Christy?

“You understand,” she said with more than a touch of relief. “Sure, I like drawing them, but they’re also part of what I do. I’m an artist, a sculptor, and they’re part of the human body.”

“Exactly.”

“And I’ve drawn plenty of guys I haven’t… um… been intimate with.

Like you, before you came to your senses.”

We shared a grin before I nodded at the page.

“But you were intimate with these two,” I said. “And if I had to guess, not very close to the first guy. You only had a couple of sketches of him, but a lot of the second guy, and he’s the full-color one.”

“Can you really tell the difference?” she asked. “I mean, they’re pretty similar.”

“Sure. I’m not like most guys, remember? I don’t mind looking at dicks.

So, yeah, I can tell the difference.” I flipped through the pages to point them out. “Besides,” I added, “the second guy has… what? Ten or twelve drawings on three pages?”

“Yes. That’s Peter. I have drawings of him—his face, I mean—in one of my high school sketchbooks if you want to see. It’s at my parents’ house.”

I shrugged. “I care what he looked like, in a general way, but not really. I mean, he’s part of your past, right?”

She nodded.

“Okay. So, who’s the first guy?”

“Vaughn.” She frowned. “Not my best decision ever.”

My eyebrows rose with a question.

“Before I tell you, I guess I should let you know why I picked these guys.

I really wanna know your group secret, the one you and Leah were talking about. I think I’ve figured it out, but…” She shrugged with undisguised curiosity.

“Ah, so that’s what this is? Quid pro quo?”

“Whatever that means.”

“It’s Latin. It means ‘something for something.’”

“Right. That’s exactly what I want. I tell you something and you tell me something. I hope you don’t think that’s bargaining for sex, but—”

I shook my head.

“Yeah, you know we’re going to have sex, no matter what. Well, not sex-

sex, but you know what I mean.” She rolled her eyes. “Why am I so nervous?

I’m chattering! I know you aren’t going to think I’m a tramp, but—”

I kissed her, long and lingering and full of intent. “I think it’s sexy that you had boyfriends before me. And I want to hear about them.”

“I know,” she said in a small voice. “I can tell. Mr. Big is pretty big at the moment.”

“Mmm hmm. He wants to hear all about your oral adventures.”

“Okay. Here goes…”

She’d met Noelani at the beach near her house in Hawaii, right after her family had moved from Japan. They were in the same grade and had similar interests, from dance and gymnastics to swimming and surfing. Christy had developed a crush on another surfer, Vaughn, who was friends with Noelani’s older brother, Peter. The guys had the same last name, so they were in the same home room in school.

“Unfortunately, Vaughn was a total jerk,” Christy explained, “although I didn’t realize it at the time. I just thought he was so dreamy.” She rolled her eyes at her younger self.

“He had a girlfriend when school began,” she added, “but he broke up with her and started hanging out with Peter and us. One day we were at Noelani’s house—her mother volunteered several days a week—and we were alone together, just him and me. I guess he’d told Peter to get lost or something, and he’d taken Lani with him.”

“Ah. I know where this is headed…”

“Of course you do. But you still won’t believe what he did.”

“Tell me.”

“He whipped it out.”

My eyes bugged.