Tony opened his eyes and looked up to her, worried that he had done something to make her uncomfortable. “Summer? What’s wrong? Are you okay? What’d I do?”
“It’s not you. It’s not you.” She shook her head, eyes still closed. “I’m afraid of pain. I’m afraid this is going to turn out to be an awful joke, like Carrie. I’m afraid I’m making a fool of myself, loving you.”
“Who the fuck is Carrie?” Tony asked stupidly. “I have never in my life been with a girl named Carrie.” Tony was completely and utterly in the dark. “I don’t think I even know anyone named Carrie.”
“It’s a movie. And a book. A couple movies. I was thinking of the sequel one, where the boys play a game of screwing girls and bragging about it after.” Summer rested her head on his shoulder, one hand groping for his. “The closest I’ve ever come to sex was being fingered. I’m just … I don’t … “
“Of course I’m gunna brag about it,” Tony laughed, rolling his eyes. “But not to my friends. Just to you. You think I’m gunna let you forget this ever?” He chuckled, giving Summer a gentle kiss. “Good to know you still think I’m that much of an asshole though.”
She whacked him. A rush of feeling, complex and tangled, drove energy through her bones, and she sat up, climbed off his lap, and grabbed his hand. “Not on the couch. I want a bed, a proper bed, and more kisses.”