Peter has to answer the question on everyone's minds

When she asked him the question with a taunting glint in her eye, Peter knew she was going to put him through hell.

“Truth,” he said.

Heather preened, and he realized he'd miscalculated. That was the answer she wanted.

“Whose boobs are nicer, mine or Hannah's?”

Every flagging erection in the room shot to full mast. Peter couldn't see the leers and gawps of the other guys, but he remembered what they felt like, just as he remembered what it felt like to earn them with Hannah wrapped around him...

“Um.” He shifted in his seat, but there was no position where his dick didn't manage to chafe inside his pants. “That's sort of like picking a favorite ice cream flavor, isn't it? They're all...”

Heather raised a finger.

“Hold that thought.”

White straps rolled off her shoulders, and her breasts swung as she tucked the dress beneath them. Her skin started to glow pink, and she drew her arms to her chest, but no one could mistake this for self-consciousness.

“Hey! We all know that trick, Ravers!” Hannah poked Heather. “Arms behind your back.”

That glint again. Even without being propped up, Heather's breasts were to die for, and that was the whole point. She wouldn't stop until she got what she wanted.

“Yours are...” He ought to make her work for it, but his Adam's apple was a tennis ball lodged tight in his throat, and he struggled to draw breath around it. “...very nice.”

She “innocently” bounced with pleasure.

“Very, very nice. But I've only felt Hannah's.”

A lie, and she knew it. But here she was, holding her breath, skin burning up under his fingertips. Good, he'd gotten to her as well. His thumbs rubbed circles over her nipples, the areolae swelling.

Behind Heather's heaving chest, Victoria shook her head. Dustin's boner hadn't escaped her, but then he was the one guy decent enough not to stare, instead investigating a fascinating-really-where-did-that-come-from-never-seen-anything-like-it spot on his shirt cuff. Even Kurt's eyes were on her, though he was whispering to an equally fixated Ashley. Weird.

At least Chloe and Lisa were still sane, judging from the dirty looks they shot Zack. Of course he looked miserable. (He knew he shouldn't be. It was his own fault for letting himself get involved with Hannah, but dammit, could you blame him? It was Peter who kept him from Hannah to start with, now Peter was going to keep him from Heather! Zack fumed. How was he going to win her back?) And then there was...

“Try harder, Heather,” Hannah grumbled. “It's been almost thirty seconds since he saw your cooch. Can you believe her?”

Taylor rolled her eyes. “It's so over-the-top. We've all climbed up Mount Sluttiest before, does she really think we're impressed?”

Something struck Hannah in Taylor's voice.

“...Would you climb on top of Peter?”

She couldn't meet Hannah's eyes. “No way. He's your ex.”

“Assuming I said I don't care he's my ex. He's your friend too and I want you both to be happy. Would you hook up with him?”

Taylor didn't answer. She didn't have an answer, really.

“You naughty tease.” Peter whispered it so softly no one else could hear. Her breath hitched.

“Gonna do something about that, big guy?”

“Yeah.” Peter filled his hands and squeezed, and was rewarded with an unaffected moan. “Starting now.”

He let go.

“It's a tough call, but I think yours win, Heather!”

Heather was stunned. The animal part of her screamed to bury his face in them. With an audience this big, though? Meanwhile, he was eating up her indecision with a familiar shit-eating smile. She deserved that. But she deserved that big tool trying to escape his pants even more.

Heather returned to her seat and adjusted her dress like it was barely worth noticing. With the eyes of the room on her, she turned her own to the next in line.