Page 50 of The Bet
She finally says, “Does he know it was your first?”
I nod. “Yes, I told him.”
“Did you tell anyone else?” Her voice is wary. “I know you have that bet going on with the girls down the hall.”
I shake my head. “No. I haven’t told anyone but you. Not yet.”
Simone nods, as if she expected this. “Do you want to?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “I haven’t even decided if I want to see him again,” I lie, trying to sound nonchalant.
She gives me a look that’s half-smile, half-pity. “You want to. I can tell.”
The truth of it stings, but also relieves me. “Yeah,” I say. “I do. I really like him.”
Simone sits there a while, then stands and comes over, perching on the edge of my mattress. She puts a hand on my shoulder, gentle, the way you might touch a cat that might bolt at any second.
“You don’t have to explain yourself to anyone,” she says. “Not even me. But—” She hesitates. “Don’t get caught up in hormones, okay? I mean, it’s natural, but my first time, I thought I was going to get married to the guy. The flood of endorphins was so strong that I couldn’t see straight for months.”
“Oh no, it’s not like that,” I babble. “I’m totally fine.”
Simone smiles sympathetically.
“Good, I’m glad to hear that. And if you do see him again, make it becauseyouwant to. Not because you feel like you owe him, or anything like that. You don’t owe him anything.”
I nod, grateful. “I know. Thanks.”
She rocks forward a little, elbows on her knees, hands clasped like she’s thinking for a moment.
“Sim?” I ask. “What’s up?”
She takes a deep breath and smiles. “I may be speaking out of line, but I know what it’s like to fall for someone older.” The words land soft, but not easy. “I adore Liam. He’s helped open the world to me, and made me see things I didn’t even know existed. But you have to be careful, Andie. Men like that—they have experience. They have money. They know what they want, and most of the time, it isn’t forever. They can walk away whenever they want and not lose a thing.” She lifts her eyes, searching my face. “Girls like us? We’re the ones who pay.”
I absorb this. My jaw locks. I don’t want to look away, but I do, instead staring at the exposed metal springs under my mattress, each one shadowed like a threat.
Simone is gentle, but relentless. “Does he know about the bet?”
I freeze. My fingers tangle together, nails digging hard enough to leave marks. “No,” I say, and my voice is almost nothing. “I didn’t tell him.”
She tilts her head, waiting.
My heart is hammering in my throat. “I mean, I thought about telling him. Okay, not really, but there’s something else,” I say, and then I make myself say it: “I recorded it. Last night.” I watch the truth leave my mouth and hang there, quivering in the airbetween us. “I set my phone up. I haven’t shown it to anyone. But I did record it.”
Simone goes perfectly still. It’s not fear, or even surprise. It’s disappointment—a sharp, clean line that draws her features down.
“You recorded him being intimate with you without asking?”
I nod. “I know it’s wrong. I know.” I look at my hands. “I just—I didn’t want to lose this bet thing. I wanted it to count. But after, I couldn’t even bring myself to watch it. It just sits there. Like a grenade.”
The silence is so heavy I almost can’t breathe. On the other side of the wall, someone’s playing music—slow and syrupy, a sad guitar and some girl’s voice drifting in and out.
Simone finally says, “Don’t show it to anyone. Not even to me.” Her tone is firm, almost maternal. “Delete it if you can. Please. If you have to keep it, keep it for yourself and password protect it. But don’t ever let him find out.” She runs a hand through her hair, the bun coming loose. “That’s not who you want to be, Andie.”
I nod, mouth tight. “I know.”
She sighs, stands, and starts fussing with the boxes again. “I never liked that bet, you know. It was freshman-level stupidity. We’re not that desperate, and we’re definitely not that dumb.”
I almost laugh, but it comes out as a wet, broken sound. “Yeah.”
