Screwed by Laurie Plissner Read Free Book Online Page B

clearly wasn’t going to be up for any water aerobics.
    “Okay. Whatever,” he replied, taking another drag. Maybe if he inhaled hard enough, and held his breath long enough, she would just disappear, and he could get back to, um, whatshername … Amy, that was it. Grace was a pain in the ass anyway. She was the kind of girl who wanted to make love, when all he wanted to do was fuck.
    Okay?
Grace was surprised that was all he had to say. He must be so baked that he was simply incapable of registering any surprise, or discomfort, at seeing the girl he had screwed barely two months ago and never bothered to call. As he delicately pinched the tiny white cigarette, which was now so short it threatened to burn his fingers, he started to laugh again.
    Bikini Girl, known to the rest of the world as Amy, put her hand proprietarily on Nick’s tanned, ripped stomach and glared at the interloper. “Can’t you see we’re kind of busy?” she fumed. Nick had just been whispering in her ear all the wicked things he was going to do to her, right here in the middle of this lake, and there was nothing better than messing around high.
    Grace shook her head and breathed through her mouth. The sickly sweet smell of the pot made her queasy. She prayed she wouldn’t throw up. Ignoring the unbelievably hot girl whose hand had slid from Nick’s stomach down to his bulging crotch, Grace said to Nick, “We need to talk … now.”
    “Why so serious? We’re seniors. It’s summer vacation. Come on, have a hit. It’s really good shit. Whatever’s bugging you, it’ll go away like that.” Nick snapped his fingers unsuccessfully, giggling at his own ineptitude.
    “About that. You told me you were going to be away all summer. Why did you lie to me? Jennifer told me you’ve been here the whole time.”
    Fearing she sounded like a jealous girlfriend, Grace bit her lip and stopped talking. There were way more important things to talk about than some stupid fib about a backpacking trip. It wasn’t like she was trying to get him back, to salvage a relationship that had existed only in her Disney Princess imagination. This was a business meeting — she needed a financial backer — and nothing more.
    Nick hesitated. Clearly he hadn’t expected someone as timid as he believed Grace to be to call him out. “It fell through last minute, that’s all. You sure you don’t want some? It’s really good weed. From California.” Nick wished this girl would just chill. When he didn’t call, he’d been sending the message loud and clear that it was just a summer thing, a pre-summer thing, really, and she needed to move on.
    “No, thank you.”
    Even in moments of extreme stress, Grace’s manners never wavered. Manners. If only she had remembered the etiquette book’s advice to keep her legs crossed at the ankles at all times. On her thirteenth birthday, Grace’s mother had given her the
Guide to Manners and Dating for the Proper Young Lady
. It had been published sometime in the 1960s, but according to Betsy, breeding and social skills were timeless. If Grace read this book, Betsy was sure she would be prepared for anything. Not entirely true, although if her petticoat tore, her bouffant frizzed, or she got frosted lipstick on her Peter Pan collar, Grace would know exactly how to handle it. Unfortunately, the book hadn’t offered any advice about what to do when the hottest guy in school had his tongue down your throat and his hand inside your panties.
    “By the way, this is Amy. Amy, this is Grace.”
    Now Amy was no babe in the woods. She wasn’t the kind of girl you took home to Mother — he actually thought about stuff like that, though he wouldn’t admit it. Grace was the kind of girl you took to Sunday night dinner: good grades, perfect manners, kind of preppy. Amy, on the other hand, was the kind of girl you had fun with. She knew as well as he did that this wasn’t going anywhere serious, and she was fine with that. When she