Giving up, I find a hair tie in my bag and pull my hair into a messy ponytail. The rush of clean, crisp air on my face is worth getting a few tangles. Even if I do have to meet his friends in a couple of hours.

We’re on our way to the Finger Lakes for an overnight trip with some of his friends. I fully expected the car ride to be hell, but instead it’s been kind of nice. Getting out of the city feels amazing.

And being with Ethan …

Well, that’s okay too.

It’s been almost a week since the semi-awkward dinner with his parents, and we’ve settled into a pretty decent routine. Despite the fact that he’s not officially interning at his dad’s company, he still heads over there most mornings to do who knows what.

I managed to get a part-time gig at the coffee shop I worked at freshman year. I only get a few hours a week, but having some sort of income makes me feel less on edge about taking money from my father.

Not to mention the free rent from Ethan.

Except it’s not free. Because I’ve been giving up weekends and evenings and whenever else he needs a play girlfriend. And I’m not hating it.

He leans over and pinches my arm softly.

“Ouch! What?” I ask.

“Your turn,” he says again.

“For …?”

“Two truths and a lie,” he says, his eyes never leaving the road.

I groan. “I’m out of ideas.”

“Lame. We’ve only had two rounds.”

“Which is two more than anyone outside of a high school orientation group should have to endure,” I say pointedly.

Although, if I’m being truthful, the dorky icebreaker isn’t a horrible way to get some basic facts about the other person. Getting to utter one false statement for every two factual ones makes the real confessions feel less … soul-baring.

Not that we’ve ventured much beyond favorite colors and ice cream flavors. All the more reason to quit while we’re ahead.

“I’ll go again while you think on it,” he says.

He pauses for a moment before making his three statements.

“One: I shared my mother’s womb with a twin up until the second trimester. But there wasn’t room for both of us on account of my big wang, and he didn’t make it to full term. Two: My favorite book is Great Expectations. Three: Despite the fact that I didn’t feel like interning this summer, I’m actually sort of excited about the prospect of taking over the family company one day.”

I don’t even pause to consider which one is the lie. “You did not have a twin in the womb.”

He makes a wincing face like a game-show host whose contestant has just screwed up. “Oh, and I’m sorry, but that is not correct.”

My jaw drops. What? It has to be.

“Take note, girlfriend, I can’t stand Dickens. And Great Expectations is the worst of the bunch. So mopey and dramatic …”

I raise my hand to cut him off. “I refuse to buy the twin-killed-by-big-wang story. It’s medically ridiculous.”

He’s silent for a half beat. “Well, maybe they can’t prove it was death by penis. But I know.”

I snort.

He gives me a look. “You don’t have to sound so sure of yourself.”

“Oh, but I do,” I say, turning to look back out the window. “Because I am sure.”

“Can’t be sure if you haven’t seen it.”

“I’m sure,” I say. God, all this about a penis.

He’s quiet again. “So you’ve thought about it.”

“No!”

He shakes his head in a sympathetic way. “You have. Because if you hadn’t, then when the question came up, you would have had to stop and think, ‘Hmm, is Ethan’s penis big enough to push another baby out of the womb?’ But you answered right away, which means you’d already formed an opinion. An unflattering opinion, I might add. And quite incorrect.”

I’m blushing now, because he kind of has me there. Not that I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about, uh, him. My quick response to his stupid game was simply due to the ridiculousness of his suggestions. But even though I haven’t thought (much) about his more manly bits before, because of this conversation I’m definitely thinking about them now.

I shift in the leather seat of the car he borrowed from his parents. I didn’t think anyone in New York actually owned a car, but of course the Price family would have a fleet of sexy-looking vehicles just waiting for the golden boy to take one on a whim.

“Your mom had a miscarriage?” I ask, half wanting to steer the conversation away from his crotch and half genuinely wanting to know.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice quieter. “They’d just barely found out they were having twins, so it’s not like she even had a chance to really register the loss, but she doesn’t like to talk about it.”

“And they never wanted to try again?”

He shoots me a look and grins. “Guess they decided I was enough.”

“Or too much,” I mutter.

“There you go, thinking about my big wang again.”

“Ethan!” I know I’m blushing now, but he merely grins and takes mercy on me by changing the subject. “What about you? Only child, right? Or do you have a whole fleet of siblings hidden in your vault of Stephanie secrets?”

“It’s just me,” I say. “Well, and my stepbrother. But I didn’t even meet the guy until I was eighteen, so I don’t really think of him as family.”