Haze - By Andrea Wolfe Page 0,68

thought of Jack and some other hot guy seemed to rub me in an unexpectedly good way. "Did you and the guy—"

"No," he said. His tone wasn't defensive. It was just like he was putting out a small fire before it spread any further and became a blaze.

Bummer, I thought. I laughed at myself for going there at all. This was amusing.

"Oh." We both fell silent momentarily. "Was it good? Doing that, I mean?"

"Well, yeah," he admitted sheepishly. "It's hard work and kind of gimmicky, but I'm glad I got it out of my system when I was younger. It's not like good sex. It's like sex."

I looked at him with confusion. "I'm not entirely sure what that means."

"Like porn, I guess. You think that's making love or fucking? It's like using someone else's body to masturbate. I barely knew those girls. They crawled backstage and we brought them along..."

I chuckled awkwardly. "Okay, okay. I get it now."

"When you're with several people like that, you're just trying to make sure everyone gets off. There isn't that connection, even when you're one on one. Especially not when another couple is three feet away grunting and groaning. It's less hot than it sounds."

I raised an eyebrow. "Well, of course it sounds bad when you describe it like that."

"I'm just trying to be honest!" he pleaded, grinning now from ear-to-ear.

"Okay." I smiled and nodded. "That makes it a lot clearer." I smiled at him and kissed his cheek, his skin so freshly shaven and smooth. "It's hard to believe that you were ever wild like that."

"I did it all. I'm lucky I didn't kill myself by accident." He shook his head. "That was just a dark time. Everybody has 'em. That was how I dealt with mine."

He was totally right. It made me think of my dad's stories during dinner, stories about people in our small town that bent the rules in a very serious way. Even in the middle of nowhere, people did—and usually got away with—crazy things when they tried to distract themselves from their troubles. In a city like Los Angeles, the distractions were most likely a lot larger.

I remembered my dad's story about the now-high-school principal, driving around the back roads with his cronies doing cocaine in the woods. I just couldn't look at the guy the same after that, even if he had changed his ways. Thankfully, he became principal after I graduated.

The behavior might be to cope with something or explore new possibilities. Or maybe something else entirely. Sitting here with Jack, drinking cocktails on private jet, I just couldn't imagine reaching such a bleak point. I knew that didn't mean anything, but it was enough for now.

"What about you, Effie? Done anything crazy? Something you're keeping from me?"

I paused, sifting through the archives of memories in my head. What should I offer him?

"I kissed some girls when I was drunk. I'm not sure if I liked it or not." Basic, but true.

"Ooh, hot," he said.

"You pig. Every guy says stuff like that." I feigned disgust.

"Well, yeah, because it's hot. You're attractive, and the hot thought of you kissing some other hot girls happens to be hot."

"Jack!" I was laughing even though I wanted to appear irritated. "How do you know the other girls were hot?"

"Just a guess. Seems like you'd have high standards for something like that." His gin and tonic was almost gone even though I'd barely seen him put the glass up to his lips.

I immediately thought of my roommates, Carly and Angela—the ones I had kissed—and realized Jack was right. "Whatever. It wasn't a serious thing. Why are we talking about this?"

"Because I know you were thinking about me and the other guy. That's the only reason why you asked. I'm just trying to figure out what makes you tick, Effie."

Heat flushed my cheeks. Dammit! How did he know? "No way!" I said, adamantly pleading my case. I wasn't sure why him knowing about me thinking that was such an issue for me, but it was.

"I've never seen you redder before. Just admit it." Jack had found a slick way out. The smile that accompanied his words was wicked and distracting.

Regardless of what he said, I did feel tense about the idea for no good reason. "Dammit." I crossed my arms over my shoulders, a straightjacket hug, and held them there, trying to relax myself.

"You don't need to feel ashamed about it, Effie. You can trust me, tell me anything. I want to