Jack and Jill went up the hill each studiously pretending not to think about sex

You slip on your flip-flops and hurry after Dex, who doesn't speak as he climbs the hill in front of you. This makes it a lot harder to will away the slippery ache between your thighs, though you sort of don't even want to. You don't want it gone—you want to indulge it!

At least it feels kind of good, walking up the hill like this. You're slippery enough that each step you take creates interesting friction between your lips and the bikini bottoms you're wearing. What would it have been like? you find yourself wondering. If Dex hadn't gone super moral hero who can't possibly kiss a girl who had a couple drinks, that is. You mentally roll your eyes a little. Like yes, on the one hand it's sweet that he's so invested in your specific consent capacity. On the other hand, well. Okay, now that you think about it, it's actually a bit hard to criticize him for that.

The walk takes a couple minutes and you use the silence to mull over what to do with this situation, and what you actually genuinely want. Do you want to have sex with him? It's not like he was at the top of your fantasy de-virgining partner list yesterday, after all—you'd penciled in ace as your guess for him till being corrected tonight, after all. So it's also not like you really had any reason to evaluate him that way. He was just, Dex. Whom you didn't even realize liked girls too. Liked you.

You give it serious, honest consideration for a few seconds, while your heart pounds crazily over how weird it feels to be thinking of him like this. And at the end of the day... Dex is safe dick. Right? Right. He said it himself a couple days ago: he'll never turn his back on you. Just like you'll never turn yours on him. So if nothing can ruin the special, unique bond you share, you're running out of reasons not to have your first sex with somebody who was already there for so many of your other most important firsts.

And what a relief it is, to have that settled.

Scott cocks his head quizzically at you, when you come in with Dex looking generally bedraggled and in his underwear. "What happened?" he wants to know, coming over and taking the rum bottle from you while averting his eyes from Dex.

Dex produces your dripping phone and hands it to Scott. "I need a shower," he says, moving that direction with his clothes. "I'm going to let Birdie explain however she sees fit."

Well, that's cool. You'd sort of figured that a shower would be a really good way for you to let off some of that tension you've built up, as well as make sure you don't spend all evening absolutely reeking of horny teen girl pussy. Well. Oh, well.

"Okay," Scott says to Dex. "We can eat lunch after you're done. How drunk are you?" he asks as soon as Dex is gone, leading you into the kitchen so he can eye you and the bottle with a general air of doubtfulness. "Did you say something mean to him, Bridge?"

Well, way to be weird, Scottie-boy. "Not very drunk," you say, "and no, I didn't say something mean." You're pretty sure that's accurate.

"Then why's he doing the sad boy thing?" Scott persists.

"What do you care? You guys have been fighting for months anyway!" you whisper, and then you hear the shower turn on. It's plenty loud. You hadn't fully noticed till now, that the shower shares a wall with the kitchen sink. Probably for plumbing proximity reasons.

"Well, but you said all that shit earlier. We're in a truce or something now."

"He's not even doing sad boy," you say after a second, and Scott just looks at you and frowns. "I—" you begin, and then fall silent when the sound of Dex moaning quietly in the shower becomes suddenly audible.

Both you and Scott stare, red-faced, at the wall above the kitchen sink.